Between the Letters
by ferociousqueak
Summary: Snapshots in and around both Hawks and Doves and Family Resemblance. I'll do my best to keep the chapters in chronological order!
1. Pochemuchka

Despite her small size and huffing and puffing, Odessus didn't seem much deterred in keeping pace with her cousin up the mountain trail. Her seemingly endless list of youthful questions must've been the fuel she needed to match Sana's adult strides under the deep shade of the many-colored deciduous trees surrounding them.

"Cousin, why are asari blue?" she asked in her high, childish trill.

Sana grinned. "How familiar are you with asari blood composition, how an epidermis works, and genetic variation?"

Her counter question made the juvenile pause, but only briefly. She readjusted the pack on her back to cover her confusion and took a few quick, bouncing steps to catch up again.

"Don't be stupid, Odessissi," Hadrian snapped from the other side of Sana. "Blood is blue. That's why their skin is blue too."

"Don't call me stupid!" Odessus did her best to growl, but it came out too high to sound at all threatening. "Is that right, Cousin Sana? Why aren't turians blue if that's true?"

"She has skin, that's why!" Hadrian attempted to explain again. "You can't see our blood through our plates."

Odessus turned a pleading look toward Sana, who only shook her head. "That is an understandable conjecture, Hadrian. A wrong one, but still understandable. Asking curious questions is the first step in drawing accurate conclusions."

"What's a _conjecture_?" Odessus asked, already moving on to her next question.

"Spirits, Odessissi!" Hadrian groaned his irritation. "Stop talking so much! It's annoying."

"Stop calling me Odessissi, Hadrian!" she snapped, readjusting her pack again, but more angrily this time. "I'm not a fledgling, I'm nine! Don't be such a cloaca!"

"Language, Odessus," Sana warned her gently. "Put your mind at ease, Hadrian. Your sister is not annoying me. I am happy to answer any questions she has."

"She's annoying me," Hadrian grumbled low but loud enough to be heard by both Sana and his sister.

Before Odessus could respond, Sana said in a louder volume than her normal speaking voice, "This is an excellent place to take a rest. It is important to drink enough water on a day as hot as today, especially when you are outside and active."

A small covering with a table and benches stood about twenty meters off the trail, and Sana led Hadrian and Odessus to the picnic area while both of them continued to hiss wordless threats at each other. It was definitely time for lunch.

Sana let her pack slide off her shoulders and opened it to rummage for the food she'd prepared that morning. A nature hike wasn't normally her idea of a fun and relaxing time, but their mother had begged her to take them for a few days while the primarch visited their household with a contingent of high-level advisors and ministers. If nothing else, the hike would tire them out enough to go to sleep at a decent hour and keep them entertained until that time came. Alas, Hadrian and Odessus found ways to antagonize each other regardless.

Both brother and sister grabbed eagerly at their food and hardly had it unwrapped before they bit into it. While they were distracted by their meals, Sana discreetly sat between them, wedging them apart. She suddenly felt how famished she also was and pulled apart bits of her own lunch to eat with a little more dignity than the two preadolescent turians in the middle of their first major growth spurts.

For a few brief moments, there was relative silence. Of course, the moment she turned and saw Odessus looking at her intently while she chewed her food, Sana knew the silence was not to last.

Before she could even invite Odessus to finish chewing her food, she barreled forward with yet another question. "What's space like?" she asked, her small, amber eyes the definition of starry.

Sana suppressed a smile and considered the question. She chewed slowly, half testing the young turian's patience and half wanting to give an appropriately sanitized account of what off-planet life was like. From her peripheral vision, she noticed Hadrian had also turned toward her, eager to hear her answer but trying not to show it.

When she sensed both Odessus and Hadrian were near the breaking point of their curiosity, she said, "It is a bit like this hike. Have you seen many people around?" Both brother and sister shook their heads. "If we walked for long enough, eventually we would run into someone, maybe a small town. If we walked for longer, we would run into even more people, maybe a city. But if we wanted to, we could stay out here by ourselves, and it would be a very long time before anyone found us."

Odessus returned to her food and took another bite, but her attention seemed to turn inward. Both she and Hadrian would find out what space was like in only a handful of years when they started their service. Her curiosity—and Hadrian's, even if he tried to hide it—was understandable.

When Odessus looked up again, it was the look of another question percolating in her mind. "Why don't you have any colony markings?"

"What?" She hadn't expected that question.

Odessus swallowed her food and asked again. "You're a Ravaka, right? Or your dad was? So why don't you have colony markings?"

Hadrian fired a piece of food past Sana and struck his sister directly in the mandible. "You're not supposed to ask adults that question. Take it back or I'll tell Mom."

Sana held up a hand to stop any further squabbling. "That is enough, Hadrian. I do not mind answering her question." She stopped and took another bite of her food, wondering how in the wide galaxy she was going to explain a decision she'd made as a maiden to never pick up a gun, not even for practice or proficiency. She sighed and took a chance. "When I was very young, both of my sisters were in the military, and both were killed when they were still maidens. I did not want to share their fate, and I decided I would never touch a gun. That decision barred me from the basic training it would have taken to complete my service. I could have gone through that training to get to a nonviolent profession for my service, but I did not want that. In the end, my integrity was more important to me than my citizenship."

Both Hadrian and Odessus were quiet for a long time. They all finished their lunches and packed up again, ready to continue the hike, before Odessus spoke again.

"But you're a doctor," she said.

"Yes."

"You save people."

"Again, yes."

"Shouldn't that count? Shouldn't that be enough to be a citizen?"

Sana shrugged. "To be honest, _ma'dulcissi_ , it is not something I think about anymore. I spent my maiden years fixing people, and that is enough satisfaction for me. It is a technicality I know will bar me from my citizenship, but I do not regret it. I can sleep soundly every night knowing no life has expired because I did them harm."

Both Sana and Hadrian had walked a dozen paces before they realized Odessus had stopped. When Sana looked back, she saw Odessus standing there and gazing up at the sky as she clutched at the strap of her pack. It took a moment for her to realize Sana and Hadrian were waiting for her, and then she bounded toward them.

"Don't worry, Cousin," she said excitedly. "I think I know how to help. I just have to ask Mom a few questions first."

Sana smiled and shook her head. There was no point in trying to dissuade her. She'd forget all about it by the time she went home in a few days, and in another fifty or one hundred years, she'd answer the same question from another young and curious Ravaka. The galaxy was always changing, but never that much.


	2. You think this troubles me?

Despite the lingering sting and bruising, Odessus still felt light as air. Over and over, her hand went to her shoulder of its own accord. The gauze hid the tattoo, but she could still see it in her mind's eye— _citizen, tier one_. She felt like she might burst from happiness.

She was a citizen now, not just a civilian. Basic training had been grueling, but she'd loved every moment of it, even the mud and sand and MREs and sleep deprivation. It had to be hard because being a citizen was hard. Committing to the community. Being willing to sacrifice the self for the good of the many. Leaving the world better than when you entered it. As a citizen, she was entrusted with these responsibilities, and it thrilled her every time she thought of it.

Sana moving Odessus's hand away from her shoulder interrupted her thoughts, and she shook her head to ground herself in the moment again.

"If you keep touching it, it'll get infected," Sana reminded her gently and leaned back in the chaise lounge, returning to her book.

"I know, I know," Odessus said, feeling self-conscious as her neck warmed. She stood and started pacing the library. Mother and father would be home soon and she wanted to burn off some of this energy before they arrived. "It's just . . . I did it! I'm a citizen now!"

Sana smiled warmly and put her book down again, closing it over her finger to keep her place. "You remind me of my sisters. They were so excited when they returned from Basic. They got their first tattoo, like yours, even though asari do not normally do that. Our father was so proud."

Odessus clicked her mandibles, wondering if it was polite to ask. "Do you ever regret not becoming a citizen?"

The smile stayed in place, but something in Sana's eyes turned sad. "It's not as simple as regret, Odessus. Given the chance, I would make the same choice. These hands are for healing only. They haven't held a gun for four centuries, and they never will."

By the tone in Sana's voice, there had to be more. Odessus sat near Sana's feet. "But?"

"You think this troubles me? Not being a citizen?" Sana said, her voice steady but controlled. She nodded. "There was a time when it did. My father never insisted or tried to push me, but I could see how my decision affected her." She grew quiet for a moment before continuing. "I have healed people for centuries. If I could have healed the hurt I caused her without compromising my resolution, I would have jumped at the chance."

Odessus didn't know what to say or how to respond and sat there in silence as Sana's focus turned inward.

Her mandibles fluttered uncomfortably. _Maybe a change in subject_. "What was the most gruesome thing you ever fixed?"

Sana's attention moved back to Odessus and she smirked, a knowing expression behind her eyes. "You fix people, not things, dear cousin. Have you ever heard of a place called Omega?"

Odessus felt relieved to get Sana's mind on something else, but there was still a steady tone of sadness in her voice as she spoke, retelling her adventures in the Attican Traverse and distant colonies. Some of the stories, Odessus had already heard before, back when she was still a fledgling and following Sana around like a young _louza_. She loved to hear stories about the generations of Ravakas that came before her and the things they did.

"Though I think the time I helped to set your mandible was probably the most distressing," Sana said, bringing Odessus's wandering attention back to the present. Sana reached over and tapped Odessus on the brow. "You still have a scar from that fall."

Odessus flared her mandibles. "That's it? I was your most distressing patient? You've brought mercs and deathly ill people back from the brink of death. I just fell out of a tree."

Sana nodded. "But I did not know any of them. They were not my family. I cared about their well-being, of course. I knew what to do with them, and if I failed it was a professional failure, not a personal one. When you fell, I was supposed to be watching you and I looked away for only a few seconds." She frowned. "I have heard bones break—I have even broken them myself, resetting them—but the sound your mandible made still turns my stomach."

Odessus tilted her head. "Yeah, but I was fine. Besides the break. And the concussion. And the scar. But I mean, I wasn't in any real danger of dying."

Sana shrugged. "When I saw your little body on the ground, completely unmoving, I had no way of knowing that yet. A million thoughts went through my head, all of them panicked. My hands shook like leaves when I turned you over. It reminded me of when your great-great-great-great aunt Idus was in a sky car crash, but worse. At least with her, I was not her attending physician." She paused and looked steadily at Odessus, considering. "You remind me of her a great deal, you know. You have a similar frame. You are curious like her. Goddess, you even have some of the same gestures. If she had not died three hundred years ago, I would almost swear you were her."

It almost sounded like there was a note of grief, old but newly remembered, in the way Sana talked about a family member who was so long dead that no one in the family now even remembered them anymore. Odessus imagined Sana sitting on this same chaise lounge in another three hundred years with another young Ravaka who'd just earned their first tier of citizenship, telling them about the time Odessus had fallen out a tree and broken her mandible. Any Ravaka could go into the family archives to look up things like dates of birth or death or promotions or accomplishments. But every time Sana talked about the people she knew, they felt like . . . people.

Odessus stood and left the library abruptly, Sana stuttering confused sounds behind her. She had an idea and she didn't want to let it get away from her.

#

At the next family meeting, Odessus made sure to extend an invitation to Sana. It was unusal to have civilian family members at these gatherings, but it wasn't unheard of. After all, sometimes a sitter just wasn't available.

But Odessus and Hadrian had never needed a sitter because the meetings were always at their home. For all the times she'd seen her aunts and uncles and cousins filing into her parents' library, she'd never been able to glimpse them inside once the doors were firmly closed and locked. Even when she stood with her ear pressed to the door, she could rarely hear anything more than a low, muffled voice. She'd often daydreamed about what it would be like to be in that room and hear the things being said there.

Finally, the day had come when a chair was set for her to join the rest of the family. This was her very first family meeting, and her heart felt like it was trying to beat its way through her carapace.

As she entered the library, it was like she was seeing it for the first time. The heavy, dark red drapes that normally hung over the large picture windows were pulled back, letting the natural light pour in and illuminate the large room. The normally spacious, open area was lined with chairs for every attending family member, and they were quickly filling up.

A soft hand on her shoulder nearly made her jump. She looked behind her to see Grandfather Ravaka grinning indulgently at her. "You're standing in the doorway, _ma'dulcissi_ ," he said, his voice vibrating with humor.

Realizing her mistake, Odessus stepped quickly to the side. Grandfather Ravaka chuckled and winked at her before he turned toward his own seat. Odessus blew out a breath, feeling a little more at ease. Grandfather Ravaka was an imposing, respected figure in the family, but he'd always been generous and affectionate with her. If he was here, Odessus felt better about her own presence.

She found her seat next to Hadrian and clasped her hands tightly in her lap to keep them from trembling too noticeably. Hadrian nudged her gently with his shoulder. She glanced up at him and saw a comforting grin. He took a deep breath and nodded at her.

 _Everything will be fine. Just breathe._

Odessus nodded and also took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through her mouth. He was right. He was always right. Everything would be fine.

Sana appeared on the other side of Odessus, sitting so smoothly and gracefully that it belied the confused look on her face.

"Odessus. Hadrian," she greeted them. "Thank you for the invitation, but I am not exactly sure what I am doing here."

Despite her nervousness, Odessus managed to smile. "I wanted you to be here for this."

The confusion on Sana's face faded, and she placed her hand over Odessus's in compassionate understanding. "Your first family meeting," she said, smiling softly. "I would not miss it."

At that moment, Mother stood and the low murmuring in the room fell silent. She didn't even have to say anything or do more than stand. Everyone just fell in sync when Lavinia Ravaka decided to command the room. Odessus could hardly imagine having that kind of respect.

"Thank you for coming today," Mother greeted everyone and waited for the low rumble of a response to pass before continuing.

Without ado, Mother went straight into "old business," which was, ironically, all new to Odessus. Properties. Investment growth. Resolutions to conversations held in previous meetings. Odessus was confident she knew all the words the people around her were saying, but they were moving too quickly for her to parse them all together. She felt a bit like she had waded into the ocean, just off the shore where the water was shallow enough for her to stand, but only on the tips of her talons. Was it always like this?

"That concludes this meeting's old business," Mother said and paused. For the briefest moment, her mandibles fluttered in a smile and she raised her head a little higher. But it was gone as soon as it was there, and she continued. "The first item for this meeting's new business is to introduce a new citizen." She turned toward Odessus and held out an arm. "My daughter. Odessus, please stand."

Odessus stood slowly, hoping it wasn't too obvious her knees were about to betray her and give out. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and clasped her hands behind her back in parade rest.

"Odessus completed her basic training at the top of her cohort and has been selected to undergo further training as a combat pilot," Mother said, the note of pride in her voice making Odessus's neck burn. "She has reached her first tier of citizenship, and I'm confident she has a steep ascent ahead of her. Welcome, Odessus."

Approving and congratulatory noises rippled throughout the room, and Mother turned back to face the entire room, ready to move on. Odessus nearly fell back into her seat, her head spinning and her vision swimming. The first part was done. As difficult as it was to keep her attention on the new business everyone discussed around her, she had to stay vigilant. There was still one last thing to do, and she had to do it at the right time.

"That concludes this meeting's new business," Mother said in almost the exact same tone as she'd used to end the old business. "If there are any comments for the good of the family, the floor is open."

Odessus took a deep breath and stood. Mother turned toward her, her mandibles flicking in surprise.

"Odessus? You have something to say?" Odessus did not miss the soft warning in her voice.

Odessus nodded. She wanted to clear her throat, but she resisted. _Confidence_ , she reminded herself.

"Thank you for welcoming me to my first family meeting," she began and saw her mother's shoulders relax a fraction. "If it pleases the family, I'd like for it to be someone else's first family meeting as well."

Mother's mandibles dipped in confusion. "The meeting is nearly concluded. Who would join us now?"

Odessus turned slightly and glanced down at Sana before returning her attention to the room. "Our cousin Sana has been a part of this family for centuries, but as a civilian. I'd like to motion for the family to grant her associate citizenship."

A wave of surprise and confusion spread throughout the room, and Odessus quickly continued. "I know it's unorthodox, and she hasn't completed the Hierarchy's civil service requirement. Because of her commitment and self-sacrifice to whatever community she's in, however, I believe she's done far more. She's delivered vaccines and proper medical attention to remote colonies where access to that kind of care is difficult. She's provided free health services in slums and places other doctors wouldn't go. People are alive today because of her."

Odessus paused and looked at Mother, waiting to be interrupted. Her expression was inscrutable, but she remained silent and Odessus took that as invitation to continue. "But that's not all. Sana holds a unique place in this family. She remembers more about the generations that came before us and the legacies they left behind than the rest of us combined. Because she knew them, just like she knows us. She can tell future generations about us as well." Odessus took a deep breath. "Sana is the perfect choice to be this family's historian. But she has to be a citizen first, and she's more than proven her dedication to serving a greater good."

Odessus felt out of breath, but as she spoke each word, rehearsed over and over for days, she felt lighter. She took one final deep breath and said simply, "She deserves to be a citizen. She deserves to be a full member of this family."

She returned to her seat and stole a glance at Sana. Her head was bent slightly and her hands were clasped tightly enough to make her knuckles turn a blue so pale they were almost white. Her expression remained placid, but a mixture of emotion Odessus couldn't define roiled beneath her normal air of gracious equanimity and self-control.

The room was silent for a long moment before Mother spoke again. "It is highly irregular for any citizen on the first tier to make motions at these meetings," she said, finally, her voice measured and restrained. "However, given that you are unfamiliar with how we conduct business, I'll allow it. Would anyone like to second the motion to allow our asari cousin Sana T'Oriza, an untested civilian who refused her service when given the opportunity centuries ago, to become an associate citizen now and imbue her with all the rights and responsibilities of being a full member of the Ravaka family—the same family she left for more than a century to pursue her personal interests?"

Odessus felt her neck burn. This isn't quite how she'd envisioned this process turning out. She hadn't expected a standing ovation for her little speech, but she'd hoped for a reaction that was little warmer than her mother's passive disapproval and civil disdain for the motion.

The room was silent for what felt like an unending infinity of ticking seconds. Finally, Hadrian stood.

"I second the motion," he said firmly and sat down again.

Mother gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. "That's very noble of you, _ma'dulcissi_. However, a motion of this magnitude and gravity must be seconded by someone on a higher citizenship tier."

Hadrian clicked his mandibles in annoyance. "That's not in the bylaws."

"It is in spirit, if not in text," Mother responded. "Granting citizenship is a serious business and should be considered by those of us with sober minds and greater life experience. The motion must be seconded by someone who has at least completed their service to ensure—"

A deep voice from across the room called out, "I second the motion."

The entire room turned toward the voice. Grandfather Ravaka stood with his shoulders square, still an intimidating presence despite his age. Odessus felt a flutter of hope in her chest.

"Odessus makes a compelling argument," he said, his voice resonating throughout the room. "Sana has completed her civil service. In spirit, if not in record. Besides, this family needs a good historian, one with a sober mind and great life experience. Sana is all of those and more."

Mother's mandibles clamped close to her jaw and she nodded. "Very well. The motion has been seconded. All those in favor, raise your hand."

Slowly, one by one, hands began to rise. As each hand raised, Mother's mandibles twitched in annoyance, but she kept an otherwise calm demeanor.

When nearly every hand in the room was raised, Mother took a deep breath and straightened her posture. "The motion passes. Congratulations, Sana. You are now an associate citizen of the Hierarchy and a full member of the Ravaka family. Welcome."

Sana let out an audible breath as if she'd been holding it the entire time and cupped both hands over her mouth and nose. A tear traveled down the lines of her fingers, leaving a dark blue trail in its path that another tear quickly followed.

While Mother's tone could only have been less welcoming if it had been outright hostile, the rest of the family stood and cheered, the ones sitting closest to Sana clapping her on the arm or shoulder.

Mother raised her voice above the sudden din and said, "Order, please. This meeting has not yet adjourned."

As everyone returned to their seats to continue the last of the meeting's business, Hadrian reached over discreetly and squeezed Odessus's wrist. She looked up and he nodded at her approvingly, then returned his attention to whatever Mother was currently saying.

#

Everyone was dismissed shortly after that and began to file out of the library to the dining room where food had been laid out, but Mother called to Odessus before she could follow them. When everyone had gone and they were the only two who remained, she closed the doors again.

Mother turned her full attention on Odessus then. "I hope you know that your little stunt was not only uncalled for but completely unbecoming of a first-tier citizen." Odessus held her breath as Mother slowly closed the space between them. "Do not ever undermine my authority in front of the family like that again."

Odessus swallowed. "I just—"

"You just nothing," Mother snapped. "Speak like you mean it."

Odessus took a steadying breath. "It wasn't fair. Sana has proven herself a worthy of citizenship a hundred times over. She deserves it."

Mother crossed her arms and leaned into Odessus's space. "Of course she does. But there is right way to do these things, and instead, you chose the way that made me look like a fool. Like someone who hasn't taught her daughter proper decorum and respect for order and tradition." She shook her head and stepped back. "Perhaps I did fail there. Apparently." She sighed and gently placed a hand on Odessus's shoulder. "You embarrassed me today, but I supposed I only have myself to blame. In the future, if you have a motion you would like to introduce, please speak to me so that I can put it on the agenda properly."

Odessus nodded quickly. "Of course. Yes. I will. I promise. I'm sorry."

Mother's expression softened into a smile. "This little unpleasantness aside, I really am proud of you, ma'dulcissi. You have great things in your future. I can feel it. Come. Let's join the rest of the family. We'll give you and Sana a proper welcome to your citizenship."

#

Odessus held in a laugh as she watched Sana reach absentmindedly for her shoulder. "If you keep touching it, it'll get infected," she said.

Sana shook her head, bringing herself back from wherever her thoughts had been. "That is my line," she said as she returned to her book.

Odessus stood from where she'd been sitting with her legs dangling over the arms of her father's armchair and walked over to Sana's chaise lounge. "Can I see it?"

Sana leaned forward and pulled the collar of her blouse over her shoulder. She pulled easily at the tape holding down the gauze to reveal the copper swirls tattooed there, still glossy with the antibacterial gel setting the ink and protecting the area from infection.

 _Citizen, tier one_.

Odessus nodded approvingly. "Looks good."

Sana shook her head. "I can hardly believe it, even still. I never thought I would ever have this. You accomplished something remarkable."

Odessus felt a swell of pride in her chest but tamped it down. "It's your accomplishment, not mine."

She moved to go back to her chair, but Sana caught her hand and stopped her. "Odessus, I . . ." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, they brimmed with unspilled tears but her voice was steady. "Thank you. I like to think my father thanks you, too."

Odessus squeezed the hand that held hers and nodded. "You deserve it. Anyone else would've done the same for you."

Sana shook her head and held Odessus tighter. "No one has in more than four hundred years. What you did for me was . . . it was remarkable, and you should know that."

Odessus felt her neck warm, but she didn't protest.

"If you ever need anything," Sana continued, "it does not matter what it is, you have it. I promise."

Odessus couldn't imagine ever needing anything from Sana, but she could tell it was important to her and nodded. She leaned down and brushed the side of her brow against Sana's. "That's what family's for."


	3. I know you do

The ceremony had been absolutely beautiful. When it came to throwing a reception of unprecedented size and scope, with every important politician and influence broker on Taetrus in attendance, Lavinia Ravaka was without equal. Luckily, with so much to oversee, Odessus could slip away unnoticed for a little privacy . . . with the best pair of legs she'd ever seen.

No need for a closet. Her parents' house had enough rooms for them to properly get to know each other better in the comfort of an actual bed. Nothing but the best for the daughter of a general.

Unfortunately, they were hardly half undressed when a knock at the door interrupted them. Odessus groaned in frustration—not the type of groaning she'd hoped to be doing—and let her head fall to her partner's stomach.

"Odessus, I know you're in there." Even from the other side of the door, Odessus could hear the teasing tone in Hadrian's voice.

Odessus sighed. "Sorry, Trixus. Looks like we'll have to pick this up later."

When they were presentable again, Odessus opened the door to her brother leaning against the frame with a lopsided grin. He nodded at Odessus's partner. "Hey, Trixus. Sorry, but my baby sister is supposed to behave herself today."

"I really hate you a lot right now," Odessus said after Trixus left.

Hadrian chuckled. "I know you do."

Odessus closed her eyes and shook her head. "I know you're bonded now, but you'd have to be blind not to see that waist."

He clapped her on the shoulder and steered them back to where their guests were enjoying themselves. "Believe me, it's for your own good. Mom's been bitten by the bonding bug, and if she sees you sneaking off with anyone here, I guarantee she'll start planning _your_ ceremony next."

Odessus waved a hand dismissively. "You already bonded with the daughter of Taetrus's primarch. There's no way I can top that kind of connection. Unless . . . the primarch of Palaven isn't here, is she?"

"Gross, O," he said, elbowing her arm.

Odessus chuckled. "Seriously, though, H. I'm happy for you. Avra is great, and you guys are disgustingly perfect for each other. You could maybe tone down the whole love thing, though. You're embarrassing yourselves."

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a half hug. "I know you're just jealous, but yes. There's no one like Avra, and I couldn't be happier. Now, please behave yourself so I can spend the reception with her, not babysitting you."

Odessus groaned and looked longingly at a line of guests milling near the open bar. "Fine, fine. I hope you know what kind of sacrifice I'm making for you. It's like a buffet out there."

Hadrian shook his head. "Lech."

"Cloaca."

With that, Hadrian left her alone again to return to his new bondmate's side. Odessus shook her head. She couldn't imagine ever being with just one person for the rest of her life.

"Odessus."

At the sound of her mother's voice, Odessus felt all her muscles tense. She turned around to see her mother approaching, her hand on the elbow of someone she was guiding.

"Odessus, this is Senecus Agore," she said as she pushed him forward. "Senecus, this is my daughter, Odessus. I noticed the two of you standing here alone and thought you might be able to keep each other company."

Odessus shook his hand and led him to the nearest table. "Agore," she said. "That name sounds familiar."

He nodded as he followed her. "You've probably heard of my father," he said. "General Agore."

"No shit! You're dad's a legend," Odessus said, waving down a waiter for a couple of glasses. "I guess my brother was right."

Senecus flared his mandibles in confusion. "Your brother? The one who just got bonded?"

Odessus picked up two glasses, handed him one, and gave a little salute. "The very same. He said our mother would try to start matchmaking for me now." She took a long sip and paused for a moment, considering. "I'll bet she wants to fast-track me through the ranks so that I can start pulling strings for her if she needs it."

The look of confusion on Senecus's face only deepened. "That's pretty cynical."

Odessus tilted her head. "It is, but you don't know my mother." She took another sip. "Listen, I'm not interested in any kind of relationship, and you're not my usual type, but I'll admit you have a pretty fringe. I wouldn't mind a fuck, but we'll have to do that tomorrow. I promised I'd behave today."

Senecus picked up his drink and scanned the room. "I, uh, I think I see my dad calling me over. I'll talk to you later."

Odessus felt a small thrill of victory and waved him goodbye. She drank the rest of her wine and looked back at the bar, where even more enticing prospects had gathered. She sighed and headed over, keenly aware that her mother was probably watching her every move. If her next project was getting Odessus bonded, the least she could do was learn Odessus's type.

And the sooner she could convince her mother she was only going to play this new game by her own rules, the better.

A small, willowy daughter of someone important leaned over the counter, trying to get the attention of the bar tender, and Odessus took up a place next to her.

"Hi," she said brightly and extended her hand. "I'm Odessus. Would you mind if I had a drink with you?"

Her new partner looked Odessus up and down and smiled approvingly. "What are you having?"


	4. You shouldn't have come here

Despite her mother's best-planned machinations, Odessus managed to evade every attempt to set her up with any of her many contacts' children. Well, for anything longer than a night, anyway.

Finally, after fifty-three failures and more than a year of Odessus doing her best to ignore her mother's unspoken will, Lavinia had had enough.

Once showing the latest failed attempt at building an alliance to the door, Lavinia returned to the parlor where Odessus sat on the sofa, tapping quietly to a friend she'd planned to meet later for drinks. She wrapped her hand around Odessus's wrist, interrupting the conversation.

"Are you quite finished?" she said, her voice hard and quiet with anger.

Odessus looked up to see her mother staring at her, with eyes that matched her own and filled with more rage than she'd ever seen there before. Part of her wanted to wilt to apologize to promise to cooperate— _Don't antagonize her_ , a voice much like her father's said over and over. But she also felt something else—an indignant rage equal to what she saw in her mother's eyes—and something in her shifted.

"Not yet," she said, peeling her mother's hand from her wrist. "We haven't decided where to meet yet, so if you don't mind?"

Lavinia pulled away her hand like she'd just touched something filthy. "Do you know what I do for you?" she said, beginning to pace. "The connections I sully for you, knowing you'll make a joke out of them? The lengths I go to just to make sure you don't end up crawling from one bar, one bed to the next?" She turned to look at Odessus again and huffed a haughty sigh. "Of course you don't. How could you? You only ever think of yourself."

Instead of responding, Odessus stood and left the room. Normally, she would've changed into something more comfortable than the cocktail dress she'd been required to wear to meet what's-her-name, daughter of who's-his-face, the minister of whatever-it-is. But tonight, she grabbed her coat on the way out the door and called a skycar to speed away before she said or did anything she'd regret.

#

"Wow," Adrien said.

"Yeah," Odessus agreed and took another drink of her beer.

"Just. Wow." His mandibles spread wide in disbelief as he swirled the diminishing contents of his glass.

"I know." She waved down the bartender for a refill. "I'm just glad we're deploying in a week. Wish it was sooner, though."

He knocked back the rest of his beer in time to ask for a refill as well. "Yeah, but she sounds like a real piece of work. You sure you should stay there the whole time? At least get a hotel or something. I'm sure you can find some empty barracks to fill on base."

Odessus huffed. "Retreat? Never. I don't want her to have the satisfaction of having driven me off. To her, that's winning."

Adrien rubbed the top of his fringe. He only did that when he was about to say something he thought the other person might not like. "I mean, is this really about winning and losing, though? It sounds like no matter what, you both lose when you're even on the same planet."

Odessus thought about that for a moment. It was true that she felt a tremendous weight lift from her shoulders whenever she deployed. She knew it sounded cliché for a pilot to say she felt free in the wind, but it was true, and she felt it every time her fighter barreled through some unknown atmosphere toward its target.

And Adrien would know that about her best—he might not see battle like she did, but he was always in her ear, telling her where to find enemy strongholds and holdouts, where anti-aircraft artillery were waiting for her. She was easily one of the best combat pilots in the Hierarchy, but that was only because he was the best recon scout. It only took them a couple of sorties to fall into synch—her pushing forward, him watching out for her.

She looked at him for a good long moment and noticed for the first time that his bright, yellow-green eyes matched his markings— _Palaven, mother would hate that_. Not that it mattered.

"You know, Adrien," she said, her heart starting to beat in a weird way she hadn't felt before. "I think it's possible that you just might be my best friend."

He looked up from his drink and met her gaze. After a long moment, he flicked his mandibles and said, "Shit, I think you might be mine."

Odessus laughed, feeling pleasantly buzzed. "Come on," she said. "Let's get out of here. I'm crashing with you tonight."

He dipped his mandibles suggestively. "I didn't think it'd be that kind of evening," he said and drank his newly refreshed beer.

Odessus rolled her eyes. "Not like that, ass. Your shitbox of an apartment is just cheaper than a hotel."

In one long gulp, he drank down the rest of his beer and put a credit chit down for the bartender. "Thanks, I think?"

Of course, it was a long way to Adrien's apartment, affording Odessus plenty of time to change her mind. As the door closed behind them, she pushed him against the wall and he groaned, reaching for the knots holding her dress together. He gave up and pulled up the skirts of the dress altogether before reversing their positions.

 _Wouldn't it be funny if this actually worked out_ , she thought.

#

She stayed the next night too. And the one after that. In fact, Odessus didn't return home or even call before she deployed. Thankfully, Hadrian agreed to run interference so she didn't have to take any of her mother's calls or answer any of her texts. It was the best damn week she'd had in a really long time.

Even after they deployed again, they found ways to be together. She didn't once even consider taking time and energy with anyone else on the crew, like she usually did. Right now, Adrien was the only person she wanted to spend any kind of time with, whether it was talking about the day's duties or making him squirm under her attentions. She saved him a seat in the galley. He sometimes left little wrapped surprises in her bunk—the new tactical cloak mod for her 'tool was the most extravagant, and she smiled to herself thinking of exactly how she'd use it on him during their next rendezvous.

It felt . . . strange . . . good . . . different. Just wanting one person. Not even looking at anyone else. Odessus wasn't used to the feeling and she wasn't entirely sure if she liked it or if she just wanted to like it.

Hadrian laughed at her when she texted him about it.

 _/HR: I hate to break it to you, O, but I think you might be in love_

Odessus rolled her eyes at her 'tool.

 _/OR: Don't be ridiculous. That's not my thing._

He sent her a series of cartoon symbols that she didn't even try to decipher.

 _/HR: Looks like mom's gonna get her bonding ceremony after all_

Odessus frowned and didn't answer. That's not what this was about.

It wasn't.

#

Halfway through their deployment, Odessus and Adrien lay in her bunk, lazily stroking each other as they basked in the afterglow of the afternoon's activity. They still had a few minutes before they had to get dressed to avoid any ragging from the rest of the crew.

Odessus traced one of the tattoos on Adrien's chest and he purred softly in response. "What do you want to do, Adrien?" she asked softly. "Once your service is done, I mean."

He shrugged, rubbing his thumb in circles around her shoulders. "Probably settle down. Have a couple kids. See where things go."

Odessus hummed. That was . . . not a bad plan. Plenty of people did that. Spirits, even Hadrian was about to have his first fledgling, and he was only a couple of years older than Odessus.

"That seems . . . nice," Odessus said.

But she couldn't describe what about it she found "nice." The thought of it made her feel claustrophobic, if she was being honest. It felt like something other people wanted. Like something other people wanted _for her_. Like something that would never be on her terms, not entirely.

Odessus looked up at Adrien. His eyes were closed but she could see his mandibles quirking in a suppressed smile that told her he knew she was looking at him. She liked Adrien more than she could say. Spirits, Hadrian was right. She did love Adrien. But looking at him like this, thinking about a life with him was like listening to a beautiful symphony . . . with a single instrument out of tune, out of sync.

Her heart pounded, and she shifted away from Adrien. _You shouldn't have come here_. _You shouldn't have let it get this far_.

"Something wrong?" he asked, his mandibles dipping in worry.

"No, no," Odessus reassured him as she started to dress. "Not at all. It's just. Shift change is soon. We should probably get ready."

He nodded and started to dress too.

#

Odessus threw her gloves onto her bunk and rounded on Adrien, following right behind her. "Spirits, did you get your head surgically attached to your ass or were you being deliberately useless out there?"

He put his hands up. "I painted the target exactly as I saw it. I don't know why the targeting system missed."

"Oh, please," Odessus snapped. "Let's not be coy. You think it was my fault I missed that shot."

He shook his head, his shoulders up in defense. "No, I don't think that. Technology glitches sometimes. I painted the target, your first shot missed. What matters is your second shot didn't. It was still a win out there today, Odessus. One less slaver base is a good thing." He put his arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck. "Come on. It's not that big a deal. Let's go take a shower and wash it off."

She pulled away from Adrien and started to pace. "I know, I'm sorry. I'm just feeling a little . . . I don't know. Pent up, I guess. You go ahead. I think . . .," she looked up and almost lost her breath as she realized it. "I think I need some space."

Adrien took a step back. "Space? Space like how?"

Odessus pressed the heel of her palm to her brow. "I . . . I don't know. I just need to figure some things out."

"What? What do you need to figure out?" he said, the thread of panic rising in his voice. "We can do it together. I can help."

Odessus shook her head. "I don't think you can. This is something I have to do on my own. I'm . . . I'm . . . sorry."

Adrien's shoulders slumped and he nodded. "I get that. I don't like it, but I get it. Let me know when . . . yeah."

He turned and left without asking for any more explanation.

Odessus felt her throat tighten and swallowed hard to stop the keen threatening to rise.

#

The weeks leading up to docking at Vallum again were the worst in recent memory for Odessus. Depending on the hour, she wanted to reach out to Adrien, tell him she was sorry, admit she was being stupid and paranoid and self-sabotaging. By the next hour, she felt resolved. This was best. She would just end up hurting him more later. At least this way, things between them didn't end gradually and painfully, each of them dying a little more as time passed and they grew unhappier.

This was best.

Even if it was lonely in the galley.

Even if she had no idea what a combat pilot could possibly do with a tactical cloak in the field.

Even if she wrapped her arms around herself at night and let herself think sometimes they were his.

When they finally docked, she waited for him. After a few short minutes, she finally caught sight of him descending from the ramp and waved her arm to catch his attention. When he saw her, she saw his mandibles droop and she felt her neck burn.

"So," she said as he approached. "Another successful deployment."

"Yeah," he said, looking back toward the crewmates he'd left behind to meet her.

"Do you wanna . . . I don't know . . . grab a drink? Like old times, maybe?" She was being awkward. She needed to stop being awkward. If she stood any chance of them continuing to be friends like before, she definitely needed to stop being awkward.

"Yeah, I don't think that's a good idea, Ravaka," he said, adjusting the pack on his back.

Her heart dropped. _Ravaka_. "Yeah. Okay. I get it. That's fine. I just—"

"It's just that I'm doing a turn-around," he said quickly. "Not because I'm trying to avoid you or anything."

Odessus stepped back. "A turn-around? Who's short a scout?"

Adrien shifted his weight uncomfortably. "No one," he said, obviously avoiding her eye contact. "I . . . They want me for spec ops. Which means I'm shipping out for training so . . ."

"That's incredible!" Odessus said, grabbing his arm before she remembered herself and stepped back. "I mean, you talked about spec ops like it was more than you could hope for. But now they want you! That's good news."

He ducked his head. "Yeah. So, I'm leaving tomorrow, which means I probably shouldn't drink tonight. No shore leave for me, I'm afraid."

Odessus took a deep breath. "I'm sorry . . . Nyx."

He waved a hand dismissively. "No need to be sorry. It was great while it lasted." He paused and said more quietly, "The best. Take care of yourself, okay? You're not gonna have me looking out for you anymore."

Odessus huffed a laugh. "Well, that's too bad. Who's going to make me look so good?"

He put a hand on her shoulder. "You're great exactly as you are. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Then he nodded and left.

 _That's why you don't fall in love_ , she chastised herself. _It's good while it lasts, and then it just . . . hurts_.


	5. Packesel

Hannah sat beneath her fighter puzzling over the intricate electrical system, nearly oblivious to the heavy Brazilian heat that somehow found its way even inside the hangar that housed her Rosie. Nearly. A tablet glowed beside her with the plane's schematics, guiding her as she put the pieces of her bird together and took them apart again in her mind. She had disconnected some of the wiring, hoping to find a meaningful way to bypass—

"Should someone in your condition mess around with precision engineering like this? Very _expensive_ precision engineering, might I add?" Captain Tran's voice sounded disapproving behind her, and she nearly banged her head on the hull of her fighter in surprise.

She suppressed a sigh and stood with a grunt. She gave a salute that he quickly returned and she reached for a rag to wipe off her hands.

"With all due respect, sir," Hannah said, keeping her tone light to make it clear she meant no insubordination, "my _condition_ is healthy as a horse. Dr. Almeida said so just last week." Though, if she was being honest, her back really was killing her, especially bent under her fighter for probably longer than was advisable—she was going to pay for that later. "Besides, I made sure all the electrical components are inert." A thrill of excitement went through her and she started to explain her plans. "I think I can make her faster and save fuel, sir. If I can find a way to connect the eezo core to the fuel systems, I think I can make her more efficient by—"

Captain Tran held up a hand to stop her flow of words and frowned. "Staff Lieutenant, you were supposed to leave here two hours ago. Any tinkering you want to do on your interceptor will have to wait until after you return to your post after the end of your leave."

 _Two hours ago?_ Hannah bit back a swear. She was supposed to be at the airport in half an hour, which meant she wouldn't be able to go to the market or put the dishes away or put on the dress she'd bought for the express purpose of picking up her mother. She frowned and went back to her fighter, quickly putting panels back into place and tools in their proper containers—

"Don't worry about that, Shepard," Captain Tran said from behind her. "I'll have someone take care of everything." Hannah stood straight again and turned toward her commanding officer. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he tilted his head over his should. "Go on. That's an order."

Hannah smiled weakly and nodded. She saluted and, being dismissed, started to walk toward the hangar's exit. She stopped short when Tran called her name again. When she turned, he brushed a finger across his cheek, and she rubbed the back of her hand over her own cheek. Dust from her fighter's eezo core, smudged with salt and sweat, came away with her hand, and she sighed. Of course she'd be filthy when she picked up her mother too.

She had just enough time to change into her civvies, splash water on her face and neck in the locker room, and hail a skycar to the airport. Her foot had barely hit the pavement when she saw her mother appear at the terminal exit with some poor teenager pushing a trolley of her precariously balanced tower of luggage behind her. Her mother's sharp green eyes found her immediately, as if being a soon-to-be grandmother had imbued her with some kind of homing beacon that could find Hannah even in the rushing crowd of travelers that filled the sidewalk. Or maybe it was just Hannah's size that made her easy to see.

Her mother waved to her, but not too vigorously. No doubt, she wished to preserve her perfectly pressed, navy blue suit and carefully manicured exterior of aloof grace. Only Emily MacLeod could fly from Vancouver to Rio and step off the plane without a hair or a seam out of place. Happiness and nervousness swirled within Hannah, but she smiled and threw her arms wide as her mother approached.

"Oh, Hannah Banana!" her mother exclaimed as she wrapped Hannah in a gentle hug. "It's so good to see you, sweetheart. And look at that belly!"

Hannah winced at the nickname and wondered if noticing her stomach was a genuine expression of delight or a veiled criticism—with Mother it could be either—but she decided to let both go. If Mother was going to be with her for several months, it was probably better not to start with arguments, even little ones.

"I've missed you too, Mom," she said and turned toward the teenager pushing the luggage cart.

"Oh no, no, please, I'll take care of this," Mother said and slipped the teenager a credit chit. "Michael should be able to handle loading a skycar, yes?" She looked around Hannah as if maybe he'd been hiding behind her. "Where is he, dear?"

 _No arguments, no arguments, no arguments._ Hannah took a deep breath and said, "He got called out on a mission." Her mother's eyebrow immediately arched in open disapproval and _no arguments, no arguments, no arguments_. "It's his job, Mom. And he won't be gone long. There's just an eezo shipment that needs security detail. His CO knows his parental leave is coming up and wouldn't have assigned him if it wasn't important."

Hannah turned to the stack of luggage and reached for the top bag, but her mother slapped her wrist.

"You're carrying quite enough already, Hannah," she said, her voice stern and full of the kind of command that could make any NCO stand straighter. She turned and snapped her fingers, calling back the teenager she'd already dismissed.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "I'm pregnant, Mom. I'm not made of porcelain."

Her mother _tsk_ 'd audibly and shook her head. "I imagine you tell those awful military types the same thing, and they just let you do whatever you want." Hannah sighed internally. _No arguments, no arguments, no arguments._ "What do they know about pregnancy? For goodness sake, your commanding officer, this Captain Chan as you call him, he should have ordered you to start your parental leave weeks ago."

As the teenager loaded the skycar, Hannah eased herself back into her seat and hoped the grunt covered yet another exasperated sigh that her mother had managed to draw from her in only a few minutes. "It's Tran, Mom. And he practically had to drag me away from my work. Believe it or not, the Alliance is pretty family friendly. Fully paid parental leave, birthing coaches, regular checkups with a medical officer at no charge, daycare services for children who are old enough, parenting classes, a range of delivery options, including having a midwife—"

Her mother _tsk_ 'd again as she took a seat beside Hannah and handed the teenager another credit chit for his trouble. "Over my dead body will you give birth at home when there is a perfectly good hospital with a reliable morphine drip not ten minutes away."

Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know, Mother. I just meant it's an option they offer."

When her mother turned back to look at Hannah, her face softened. "I'm doing it again," she said, a statement more than a question. "I'm sorry, dear. I promise I won't try to control everything while I'm here." She smiled weakly and shrugged, and for a moment, she looked smaller, almost contrite. "You know what they say about old habits."

Hannah smiled warmly and leaned over to hug her mother. "Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it. I'm glad you're here to help me figure all this out."

She leaned back in her seat and her mother looked both relieved and happy. "I'm glad to be here too, sweetheart. I can't wait to meet little … have you chosen a name yet?"

Hannah nodded. "Allistair."

Mother nodded. "A good Scottish name. Your grandparents will be happy about that."

The ride back to Hannah's assigned housing was brief, and Mother managed to fill every moment of it chattering about how Hannah's father was spending more time in the garden these days and goodness he had a knack for jasmine and he could easily enter a gardening competition if he had half a mind to fill out an application before a deadline and speaking of which Hannah's youngest brother, Aaron, had just been recognized by the dean of his college for his work in their anthropology department and who would have guessed he would already start to distinguish himself but then all her children had always found a way to outshine everyone else it was practically a family trait.

By the time they walked in the door, Hannah was relieved to have a reason to excuse herself, even if that reason was because she had small feet tapdancing on her bladder.

"Of course, dear," Mother said and smiled at her. "Why don't you have a lie down? I'll get myself settled, and when you feel rested, we'll have a bit of supper."

Hannah took the invitation gladly and, smelling metal and rubber on herself as she walked down the hall, decided a shower was in order too. She could still feel the grime of the eezo from her fighter on her face and hands, and she'd be glad to be rid of it.

#

The warm, coral light of the setting sun streaming through her windows woke Hannah what felt like a day later. Really, she'd probably only slept for a couple of hours. She closed her eyes again and grimaced at the soreness in her lower back. After several deep breaths, she braced herself to heave off the bed. Once she was on her feet again, she pressed her palms into her back and stretched. This baby couldn't come soon enough, as far as she was concerned. The next three weeks were going to be an ordeal.

An unfamiliar smell wafted through the door, and Hannah breathed deep. Something with peanuts? She walked down the hall and into the kitchen, where her mother sat turned away from her. Something that looked like chicken slowly boiled in a brown sauce over the stove, and Mother sat at the kitchen table bent over a glowing tablet.

"It smells good," Hannah said and took a seat adjacent to Mother. "I can't remember the last time something smelled good and not nauseating."

Mother looked up and smiled, but a small frown quickly chased it away. "Really, Hannah. Does the Alliance not issue hairbrushes."

She stood and went to her purse. While Mother was distracted, Hannah glanced at the tablet, whose screen was still activated. Pictures. The one on display now showed a young woman with bright red hair coiffed in the kind of curls that hadn't been in fashion for a couple decades at least. She looked about as pregnant as Hannah felt.

"Is this you, Mom?" she asked.

She felt a brush start to pull at her hair and her mother's fingers trailing after it. "It is," she said. "I don't suppose you could blame me for feeling nostalgic."

Hannah huffed a laugh. "I can't imagine ever feeling nostalgic about having to pee every five minutes and not being able to fit in my shoes properly. It'll be nice to drink coffee again, too."

Mother tapped Hannah's shoulder with the brush before continuing her work. "That stuff is bad for your teeth and your nerves. If you want my opinion, that's a bad habit you should leave well enough alone."

Apparently satisfied with her work, she returned the brush to her purse and checked on the chicken cooking on the stove. Hannah pulled the album closer to her so that she didn't have to look at the pictures upside down. As she swiped through the images, she started to recognize more of them. Herself as a baby, her brothers as babies, first days of school, different houses they'd lived in throughout her childhood.

Hannah chewed on her lower lip. "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Did you ever regret any of it?" Hannah asked and winced at her own words.

Nodding in satisfaction with the progress of the food, she returned to the table and moved her chair closer to Hannah so that they could both look through the pictures. "Regret any of what?"

"Well," Hannah started even though she wasn't exactly sure how she wanted to say it. "Dad's job moved us around so much, and you never really got to do anything except stay home and take care of us. Didn't you ever want to do something else?"

"Not for a minute," her mother said without hesitation. "Your father and I knew what we were doing with you kids. Well, maybe not entirely. No parent ever does, really. But we knew what we wanted. We worked together to make a life we thought we could be proud of. And we were lucky. He worked hard to make sure I could stay with you three while you were young."

A wave of panic crashed over Hannah, and the tears spilled freely down her cheeks. "Oh god, I'm going to be a horrible mother!"

To Hannah's surprise, her mother laughed outright. "What's funny?" Hannah sobbed and sniffed at the same time. "I'm going to fuck up my own kid, Mom! How can I be there for her when I'm working? And what if the Alliance won't let me out of my commission? Mother, this is serious!"

"Language, dear," she said, though there was more amusement than sternness in her voice. She took Hannah's hand in both of hers and squeezed. "Listen to me, Hannah Amelia. You are going to be a wonderful mother. You are also going to make mistakes, and the two aren't mutually exclusive. No matter how careful you are, some things will be out of your control." She moved an arm around Hannah's shoulders and rested her chin on the top of Hannah's head. "You don't have to be the same kind of parent I was. Am. What's important is that you love Allistair. Pay attention to her. Listen to the things she says without words. She'll tell you what she needs. The rest is just figuring out how to give her what she needs. Easy."

Hannah sniffed and wiped away the tears on her sleeve. "Are you sure? I'm not making some horrible mistake by planning on sending her to daycare when I go to work?"

Her mother chuckled and patted Hannah's hair. "Of course not, Hannah Banana. You're a smart woman. You'll figure out a way to make it work." A pregnant pause fell between them, and Hannah held her breath, hoping Mother didn't say what she thought she might. "You'll need help, though. And with Michael's work—"

Hannah sat up straight again and sniffed one more time to clear her sinuses. "Mother."

"Don't _mother_ me, Hannah. He's not even here now," her mother persisted. "His line of work takes him away from you with hardly a moment's notice. Allistair is going to need both of you, and if he's off fighting on some colony somewhere, you'll be the one carrying your weight _and_ his at home."

Hannah shook her head. "That's just not true, Mom. Once he's done with ICT, he'll have his pick of missions. He'll have the best assignments and the best resources at his disposal. No more last-minute, crap assignments. And the Alliance will post us together, no questions asked. I promise, being an N7 will free him up a lot so that he can be here with us."

Her mother held Hannah's gaze steady before continuing. "You would know better than I would, dear. I promise not to bring it up again. I just wanted to make sure—"

"Han, I'm home!" Michael's voice floated into the kitchen from the entrance, and surprise and relief flooded through Hannah.

Michael appeared around the corner and dropped the bag slung around his shoulder, a bright smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Hannah would have tried to stand, but at that moment her back complained just enough to keep her seated. Without missing a beat, he strode forward and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"Bautista tapped me out so I could come home a few days early," he explained before she could even work up a greeting. "I couldn't stand the thought you might go into labor before I got home. Hi, Emily. Glad you got here safe and sound. Something smells delicious!"

He walked toward the stove and took out a spoon to taste the sauce. While he was distracted by the food, Hannah twitched an eyebrow in her mother's direction to say _see?_ Mother tilted her head in concession and stood to join Michael at the stove.

"It's a family recipe," she said, as if the conversation they'd been having had never happened. "My mother made it for me when I was pregnant with Hannah, and now I'm making it for her."

Hannah waited for the clipped tone Mother usually used with Michael, but it never came. Instead, she was warm and congenial, and the knot in Hannah's stomach began to untie itself.

She passed a hand over her stomach and felt a small fist bump into her palm. Mom was right. Everything was going to be fine. Maybe not what she had pictured for herself even a year ago, but it would still be fine.


	6. Can you feel this?

"Can you feel this?"

Ravaka had to try very hard not to sigh. She hadn't slept in two days. She could feel _everything_. A lot.

Instead of snapping, she said dutifully, "Yes. I told you. Other than a few bruises, I'm fine."

Dr. Thraxis clicked his mandibles in disapproval. "You crashed your fighter and trekked through alien wilderness for two days. Forgive me if I think you might need medical attention. What do I know? I'm just a doctor."

Ravaka didn't even try to suppress the sigh this time. She just wanted to eat something and sleep for a week. "The human is a surprisingly skilled pilot. She hacked my fighter and used my thrusters to get us out of a dead spin—"

"A crash is a crash, Major," he interrupted and nodded toward the stasis pod on the other side of the room. "At least the human had the sense to get properly injured to have a good story to tell later."

Ravaka's heart started to race. "Is she going to be okay? I promised I'd get her home safe."

Thraxis hummed as he thought. "If it was just a broken bone, I could have her set and on her way in no time, if a little worse for wear. It's the infection that's the issue. If her body can't fight it off on its own, I don't have much I can do for her. Humans are levo, and my supplies are spec'd for dextro."

Ravaka twitched her mandibles in irritation. Not good enough. The human—Hannah, that was her name—had saved their lives on Shanxi, and Ravaka's conscience would never be satisfied if she didn't at least try to return the favor.

"All right, Major," Thraxis said, finally closing his 'tool's interface. "I don't know how you did it, but you're all clear and good to go. Get some food and drink plenty of water. Your body can still go into shock, so be vigilant and call me immediately if you start to feel unwell."

Ravaka stood and started to go but stopped. Turning back toward Thraxis, she said, "How long would it take to get medical supplies to treat a levo patient."

He shook his head. "Too long. The paperwork alone would take days, and even if I rushed the requisitions, it would take at least a week. Her body will have resolved itself by then. One way or another."

Unacceptable. "Then we contact the humans. Let them know we have one their own as a prisoner and she needs attention."

Thraxis shrugged. "Not my call. You'll have to talk to the colonel if you want to open lines of communications with the enemy."

Ravaka felt her plates itch. _Enemy_ didn't sit well in her gizzard. Then again, while she'd been hiking through the woods, Thraxis had been treating dozens of injured and dying soldiers, some of whom were still recuperating in Med Bay. She could see them in the low light of the ship's night cycle, some lying deathly still while others turned fitfully in their beds. They were likely to have a very different view of humans and whether they should be considered enemies. They probably wouldn't be happy about sharing Med Bay with a human either.

But this was Hannah. She wasn't like the humans they'd been fighting. She was … just different. No one, not even Ravaka, could've turned a suicide dive like that into a survivable landing. And a promise was a promise, even if Hannah hadn't actually heard her say it.

"Now, if the supplies just appeared on our doorstep," Thraxis said, interrupting her thoughts, "I'd be compelled to accept them. But something tells me we're not going to just happen upon the medicine we'd need in the vacuum of space."

Ravaka turned her full attention toward Thraxis. "So if someone just shows up and says they have levo-specific medicine, you'd have to let them help?"

Thraxis nodded. "Absolutely. I'm a doctor. Even if there weren't rules telling me to do everything I can to help my patients, even if they're prisoners of war, I'd do it anyway. But I can't just—"

"Thanks, Thraxis! That's all I need to know."

Despite her exhaustion, Ravaka felt a surge of energy as she rushed out of the room, bringing up her 'tool as she did.

A groggy voice answered her. "Odessus? Do have any idea what time it is?"

"I don't, sorry," she said, her need to keep her promise to Hannah trumping her manners. "Sana, I need your help and I need it now."

Sana's voice took a hard edge as she woke to the urgent tone in Ravaka's voice. "Are you in trouble?"

"Not me," Ravaka said and launched into retelling the events of the last two days without any further preamble.

"I'm sending you our coordinates," she said, keying in the information and sending it to her. "When can you get here?"

There was a pause before Sana answered. "After I get everything together … inside of two days. But, Odessus. You have just shared the position of a Hierarchy military vessel in the middle of a conflict. I am not a soldier, but even I know that cannot be allowable."

"Yeah," Ravaka said, feeling her stomach drop. "I'll probably be a private by the time you get here, but I'll figure that out later. The point is, you're the only person who can help Hannah, and they can't turn you away."

"I will be there as soon as I am able," Sana said and paused. "I hope you know what you are doing."

For just a moment, Ravaka could see the image of Hannah back on that planet, drenched from the rain, still out of breath from climbing out of that ravine, drops of water clinging to her dark lashes. Her eyes an impossible green. _Thank you_ , she'd said—simple but arresting. What was it about this human that stopped her, rooted her to the spot, stole her breath?

"I do," she said, and ended the call. _I do_.


	7. I heard enough, this ends now

_"We're not friends."_

Ravaka couldn't get the sound of Hannah's voice saying those words out of her head. It had been too easy to forget their truth. They weren't really friends—they were enemy combatants as long as the fighting between the Hierarchy and the Alliance continued.

Maybe in a different time, a different life, they could be friends. This was no that time. This was not that life.

As a prisoner of war, Hannah was entitled to medical attention and sustenance to the best of the ship's ability. Odessus had skirted Colonel Octavus's hope to let Hannah die under the protection of that vague language, but she wouldn't be able to do that again, not while on administrative leave.

She needed help.

Ravaka entered the gym still wrapping her hands in tape. A quick scan of the room and she found exactly the person she'd hoped would be there.

"Hey, Vakarian," she called out to him as he stretched. She emphasized the tones of anxiety in her subvocals, hoping he'd catch them and realize she wanted to talk. "Wanna spar?"

He tilted his head, twitching his mandibles in curiosity. He looked at her a long moment before nodding and getting into position. _Good_ , Odessus thought. _The less said out loud the better_. She wasn't a grappler, usually, but sparring was the only way to talk privately and inconspicuously.

Odessus let him get in close and push her to the mat. "I need you to replace Vyrnnus," she said, ignoring the air rushing out of her lungs. "It needs to be you who interrogates H—the human." She used her weight to flip their positions until she had him pinned, holding his arm behind his back.

Vakarian hit the mat with his palm and she released him. "Sorry, Ravaka, can't do it."

"Why not?" she said, walking to the other side of the mat and feeling the frustration rise in her chest. "She doesn't know anything substantial. You're transferring to C-Sec in a month. An unsuccessful interrogation won't mean anything to you."

Vakarian shifted faster than she expected and caught her left foot, throwing her off balance. She caught herself before hitting the mat and rolled away.

"Exactly," he said. "I'm leaving in a month. My record is spotless and I'd like to keep it that way."

He lunged for her, and she turned into the motion, grabbing his arm and flipping him over her shoulder using his own momentum. He grabbed her arm back and pulled her down with him.

Ravaka grunted as she hit the mat. "But you know Vyrnnus's methods. I know you don't agree with them."

Vakarian twisted her arm and held her between his legs until she tapped the mat. They stood and took new positions again.

"Of course I don't," Vakarian admitted. "It's crass, unnecessary, and ineffective. Not to mention cruel." He feigned an approach and Odessus fell for it. As she shifted her weight to avoid him, he put a foot between hers and grabbed her as she fell to the ground. Above her, he grunted. "It's not up to me to agree or disagree with Octavus when he chooses the person he wants for an assignment. He had his reasons for choosing Vyrnnus over me."

Odessus leveraged her weight against him until he rolled off and she stood. "He's going to hurt her, Castis. Maybe kill her."

He nodded. "I imagine that's why Octavus chose him. I prefer not to ask." His mandibles twitched at her. "You never cared before. Why now?"

Odessus shrugged one shoulder and looked away. "I don't know. Maybe I should've cared before too."

Castis's brow plates drew down thoughtfully. "I'm sorry I can't help you, Odessus. I wish I could." He sighed and brought up his 'tool. "But I also can't stop you from going to the brig to observe Vyrnnus. His interrogation subjects tend to have their worst accidents when no one's watching."

Odessus felt her wrist buzz and looked down to find the passcode to the brig. She let out a relieved breath. "Thanks, Castis. I owe you one."

#

It was one thing to have the passcode to the brig, but it was another to know when Vyrnnus would be there also. Odessus couldn't just hang out near the brig all day waiting for him to show up.

She also thought it wasn't the best idea to see Hannah at the moment. They'd already been too friendly, which wasn't good for either of them.

Being on administrative leave made things more difficult too. She spent her normal shifts mostly confined to her bunk space or the gym. Technically, she could wander freely around the ship, but the reality was a little different. If she wasn't contributing to the work being done around her, she felt awkward and out of place.

At least when Hannah was in Med Bay she could . . . Odessus shouldn't think about that.

It took a few of days—each one weighing on her more heavily than the last—but eventually, she was able to catch Vyrnnus to track his schedule. Her plates itched, watching him while trying to remain undetected. Like just about everyone else on the ship, his daily routine changed very little—or so she assumed. She just needed a single cycle to figure it out and make her plans to intercept him.

What she didn't count on—and probably should have—was the depth of his proficiency as a torturer. He used unpredictability and randomness like a soldier used a gun.

She approached Hannah's cell ahead of schedule, hoping to arrive before Vyrnnus to let him know he was being watched. As she grew closer, however, she could hear Hannah's pained response. "Lieutenant Commander Hannah Shepard," she said, out of breath and clearly in pain, even without subvocals. "Alliance Navy. Serial number 426784325."

Part of Odessus welled with pride—despite Vyrnnus's methods, Hannah resisted. Most of Odessus, however, inflamed with fury. If the guards on either side of the cell hadn't been there, she would've charged in to stop him.

She hardly heard Vyrnnus's next question, but she could tell by his tone he was thrilled. Thrilled that Hannah was resisting. Thrilled that he didn't have to stop just yet, that he could escalate whenever he wanted because she was being uncooperative.

Odessus felt sick.

Hannah began another nonanswer but didn't finish it, and Odessus felt all the blood run out of her. What just happened?

A moment later, Vyrnnus emerged, pulling his gloves over his hands. "It fell asleep," he said to one of the guards. "We'll resume questioning tomorrow after it's rested." He turned and caught sight of Odessus, his mandibles flaring in a wide grin. "Ravaka! Good to see you in one piece! Come to see the master interrogator at work?"

It took every ounce of self-control for Odessus to remain calm and answer him. "Something like that." She glanced at the guards, careful not to betray her fury. If she lashed out at Vyrnnus here, they'd report the incident—another mark against her before her hearing. "Why don't you explain to me how the master does it on our way to lunch."

He nodded and followed her down the hallway. "I don't know how you stood it," he said, shaking his head as they walked away from the guards. "It's immensely stupid and one-track minded. It only gives a single response to every question I ask it." He chuckled to himself. "I guess I should be thankful for that. Means more fun for me."

The moment they rounded the corner, Odessus gave the barest glance around to make sure they were alone and lunged at Vyrnnus. His carapace made a sickening crack as it hit the bulkhead, and she pressed in against him, her arm at his throat.

"I've heard enough," she said through gritted teeth. "This ends now."

"What ends now?" he said, clearly out of breath. "My job? Ravaka, you can't be serious."

She pressed in closer and lowered her voice. "Care to find out how serious I am?"

It felt like a sledgehammer hit her stomach and threw Odessus across the hall against the other bulkhead. She fell to her hands and knees unable even to gasp for breath. Her entire body buzzed from the biotic push.

Vyrnnus kneeled over her, a gloat thrumming through his subvocals. "So you got yourself a little pet," he said and grabbed her by the mandible to make her look at him. "Well, your pet has friends, and those friends killed my friends. So forgive me if I don't give a shit if it's a little uncomfortable." His nose plates twitched in a sneer. "Pathetic. I expected more from you Rav—"

Odessus lunged forward, connecting her crest to Vyrnnus's nose and making him fall back. His corona flared as his grabbed his face and turned angrily toward her.

The cell guards rounded the corner then, finding both Odessus and Vyrnnus crumpled on the ground. "What's going on?" one guard snapped, putting her hand to her sidearm.

Vyrnnus stood, wiping a trail of blue from his mouth plates. "Tripped," he said. "The major is clumsy."

The guard turned toward Odessus as she found her feet too. "Ma'am? Is everything okay?"

Odessus wanted to snap at the guard who'd stood there every day listening to Vyrnnus hurting Hannah and said nothing about it. But she remembered her own precarious situation and nodded. "I'm fine," she said, finally taking a full deep breath. "Thank you, sergeant."

The guards delayed only a moment more before nodding and returning to their posts. When they were gone, Vyrnnus closed the space between them, bringing his face close to Odessus's. "Stay out of this, Ravaka. It's not your pet anymore."

He bumped her shoulder as he walked past, nearly knocking her down again.

Odessus finally recovered her breath and made her way back up the decks. This wasn't over.

#

It didn't take much. Just her senior officer commands and the assurance that Sana was busy—which itself wasn't hard, since they usually had lunch together. After Sana left to meet Odessus at the galley, Odessus slipped easily onto her ship, still docked with the _Honorable_ , and quietly made her way to Sana's office. For as empty as the ship was now, Odessus could easily imagine it accommodating a steady stream of patients on a daily basis. It would be interesting to see Sana at work one day, when Odessus was on the Citadel for longer than a short shore leave. But now to work.

It didn't take long for Odessus to log into Sana's terminal— _Note to self_ , she thought, _Tell Sana her security is abysmal_ —and find her calendar. Her next scheduled visit to Hannah was in a few hours, but it was only listed as meal delivery. Odessus brought up the appointment and added a brief addendum— _Follow-up physical_.

She closed the calendar and the terminal and exited the ship, hurrying to the galley to meet Sana and making up an excuse about losing track of time as she went.

Odessus might not be able to stop Vyrnnus, but if Sana found Hannah injured, there was no way she'd ignore it.

Odessus felt a flutter in her chest—not quite victory, but the anticipation of it. _This ends now_.


	8. Will that be all?

Odessus paced in her room. Colonel Octavus and the Alliance admiral had been talking for hours, and every second that passed felt like a day. Her massive hangover didn't help matters much either—ryncol was always a bad idea but she'd wanted something hard hitting after everything Octavus had said about bringing her up on treason charges.

 _High treason_ , he'd said. _Capital punishment_ , he'd meant.

Odessus shook her head and immediately regretted it when it throbbed. No. No judge would ever hand down that sentence. She'd been protecting a prisoner. She'd been following the rules, even if she'd acted against her commanding officer's wishes. He'd never actually _ordered_ her to let Vyrnnus kill Han—and he would have absolutely taken that chance if Odessus hadn't been there. Spirits, he'd almost killed Odessus because he'd suspected she was hiding Han. She was, to be fair, but he didn't actually know that. She'd run as a matter of self-preservation.

Still. Hierarchy military tribunals weren't known for looking fondly on fugitives who acted against their commanders. She might not face a firing squad, but there were worse fates. Her hand went instinctively to her mandible, tracing the marking there. It was supposed to be permanent, but there were ways to remove it.

A wave of nausea made Odessus sit down to collect herself. She took long deep breaths trying to steady herself. What would her family say? Spirits, what would her mother _do_? Odessus was certain that even if the tribunal acquitted her, her mother would make her remove her markings. She could already hear everything she would say.

 _How could you embarrass us like this, Odessus?_

 _You know what kind of scrutiny this family receives. I'd prefer it if you were useless, not actively damaging our public image._

 _I had such high hopes for you. How did you become so disappointing?_

Another voice, smaller but just as insistent, made Odessus's heart pound hard with hope. _I don't know how to fix this, but I'm going to try. I promise._

If anyone could do the impossible, it was Han. Getting the Hierarchy and Alliance brass in the same room together wasn't even the first impossible thing Odessus had seen her do. From pulling them out of a suicide dive to getting them off that ship and onto the Citadel and into the asari councilor's residence for asylum. It was all so unlikely that Odessus would've doubted it if she hadn't been right there by Han's side the entire time. It had been . . . _she_ had been remarkable.

A knock at the door startled Odessus out of her thoughts. She stood slowly and smoothed her tunic, unsure of who it was she hoped to see.

General Vittorio stood with her hands behind her back and returned Odessus's salute. "Major, thank you for waiting."

Odessus stepped aside to invite Vittorio into the room. She didn't know how to respond, but being called by her rank gave her a glimmer of hope.

"I won't be long," Vittorio said. "The talks are concluded and some of the terms are . . . unique. They have to do with you in particular."

Odessus stopped breathing. _Oh no. Octavus got his way._

"Effective immediately, you are to receive a standard discharge and a transfer to Citadel Security. I put your name forward and Councilor Tevos accepted it."

Odessus stepped back. "Ma'am?"

"Certain facts about you aiding and abetting the prisoner's escape came to light," Vittorio explained. "The Alliance is willing to overlook Octavus's indiscretions in exchange for your immunity from any and all legal consequences for your actions. As insurance that both parties don't renege, a gag order has been issued for everyone involved in this incident, you included."

"And the transfer?"

"Obviously, your relationship with the Hierarchy military must dissolve." Vittorio sucked her teeth and looked to the side briefly. "As much as I abhor Octavus's methods, I agree with him on that point. But because discharging you can be seen as retaliation, we agreed to secure future employment for you. Much to Octavus's disappointment, a standard discharge or better is required for a transfer to C-Sec." Vittorio flicked her mandibles in a fleeting grin. "It seems the human prisoner thought of everything."

 _The human . . ._ "I'm sorry, ma'am, what about Han—the human?"

"Just before the talks commenced, the human admiral received intelligence about the enhanced interrogation techniques Commander Vyrnnus employed," she said. "The human prisoner—well, she's released now, so not a prisoner anymore—drafted the proposal for your immunity and transfer, and the admiral backed it. Frankly, despite Octavus's protestations, it was the easiest agreement we made today."

Odessus felt like she might fall down if she didn't sit down. _Spirits, she did it. She actually fucking did it._

Though she tried to hide it, Vittorio smiled. "You'll report to C-Sec Internal Affairs first thing tomorrow. Octavus insisted on this particular assignment. I think he doesn't want you to forget that he thinks you're a traitor, but I like to think of it more positively." She put a hand on Odessus's shoulder and squeezed. "You did the right thing at potentially great cost to yourself. Let Octavus's wounded ego fester. It deserves to."

Odessus nodded. "Will that be all, ma'am?"

Vittorio nodded. "Congratulations, Major. You're free to go."

Odessus could hardly believe it. She'd stood before a minefield of futures and Han had given her a map.

As if on cue, Han appeared at Odessus's door, smiling brightly, and she felt her heart pound. For the first time it occurred to Odessus: she would get to see Han again. And they weren't fugitives anymore, so they would get to do normal things like watch vids and complain about mundane things and just . . . be.

A man with dark hair and blue eyes followed Han through the door. _Michael._

Odessus got her freedom, and Hannah found her way back to her bondmate. A happy ending for everyone, like they hadn't been at war with each other just weeks ago.

 _Spirits, she really did pull it off._

"My captain wants me to report to the _Feynman_ , so I don't have long," Han said, her voice ringing with joy.

 _Of course. Yes. Why would Han stay here on the Citadel?_ "They," she started and stopped. "I'm being offered a standard discharge with a recommendation from Vittorio and a sponsorship from Tevos to C-Sec," she said, her mandibles drooping in disbelief. "It's Inernal Affairs, which I think is supposed to be an insult, but I'll take it. No charges. No indictment. What did you do?"

Han smirked. "You can't be accessory to a prisoner's escape when there's no record of that prisoner being apprehended. I'll be surprised if Vyrnnus doesn't get his own discharge papers soon too, courtesy of the general."

 _Good riddance_. "So, as far as anyone not directly involved is concerned, nothing happened?" She needed to hear it confirmed one more time, just in case she'd misunderstood.

Han nodded, still smirking. "That's about the size of it. I never knew I'd grow up to be a state secret. You've made my life very exciting, Dess."

Dess felt her heart pound when Han said her name. _That goes both ways._

Michael coughed and Han seemed to remember herself. She turned toward him and took his hand to pull him forward. "Michael, this is Major Odessus Ravaka. She saved my life more than once."

Dess felt her neck warm and nearly protested. Between the two, she was confident Han had done far more saving.

Michael hesitated a moment but stuck out his hand and shook Dess's hand once. "Thank you for bringing her back to me."

Disappointment threatened to dampen her confused delight, but she wouldn't let that happen. This ending to the past week's events was better than the best outcome she'd dared to consider.

Dess nodded. "She talked about you a lot. She never gave up hope that she'd see you again."

He nodded in return and turned back toward Hannah. "We need to go, Han. Captain Tran is waiting for us."

Han put out her arm and shook Dess's hand, gripping her tightly. "We might not be on the run anymore, but that doesn't mean you don't have to talk to me. I expect regular status reports."

Something inside Dess unwound, and her heart felt lighter than it had in years. "Wilco," she said and released Han's hand.

Han hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say something more, but instead she left the room with Michael in tow.

Han wanted—no, expected—them to remain friends. She wanted those normal things too. Dess could hardly believe it. She brought up her 'tool with a pretty good idea of what would make Han smile, even if she couldn't see it.

 _/OR: Current status is elated and more-than-slightly baffled. Will report again when status changes._


	9. Take what you need

Transferring to C-Sec was surprisingly easy. Apparently, it was such a common occurrence that it had its own expedited process to save everyone time. One day, Odessus was Major Ravaka, one of the Hierarchy's best combat pilots, and the next, she was Special Agent Ravaka of Citadel Security's Internal Affairs division, tasked with finding corruption and correcting it. The change was enough to give anyone whiplash.

Fortunately, Sana already had a place on the Citadel where Odessus could crash. Having to find an apartment on top of . . . _everything_ else would've just been too much to handle.

Yesterday she had a squadron and rank and respect. Today she was the new employee with a new partner and no knowledge of what her job entailed. Captain Pallin was more or less indifferent toward her, beyond showing her to her desk, and her partner was already embroiled in her own case files.

It was clear no one even cared about Odessus, and it was . . . _freeing_.

She trained in how to disarm and arrest civilians. She read the files on her new assignments. She interrogated her suspects and even made her first arrest—C-Sec's comptroller, who had been embezzling funds for the last ten years undetected.

It was absolutely wonderful.

Just as Odessus was starting to get settled in her new life, she got an unexpected message—a confirmation for a trip to Taetrus. The subject line alone was enough to know her mother was summoning her home. Her head already hurt.

#

Stepping off the transport on Vallum, Odessus breathed deep to take in the scent of "home." It smelled like concrete and steel and sweat and—her stomach turned.

Much to her surprise, she caught sight of her mother waiting for her. Dressed in all black with fringes of gold, flanked by two security agents, Lavinia Ravaka didn't need to move a muscle to make passersby give her a wide berth. Odessus couldn't blame them.

As Odessus approached her mother, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder, part of her wanting to turn and walk in the other direction. Unfortunately, they were well past a tactical retreat. Engagement was the only option now.

Mother nodded toward her. "Daughter. Thank you for coming home."

Odessus shrugged. "Yeah. I guess it's been a while. Thanks for the ticket."

Mother turned and called over her shoulder. "If you have more baggage to collect, my team will take care of it."

Odessus sighed. Not even a handshake. She looked at the two security agents and said, "It's just the one bag. We can just . . . go, I guess."

"Stop _guessing_ , Odessus," Mother said from ahead of them. "It's unseemly."

Odessus felt her neck burn. She took a deep breath and caught up to her mother. This wasn't going to be an easy visit, she could already tell.

The ride back to her parents' house was quiet enough to make even the dead uncomfortable, and even just standing in front of their front door was enough to make Odessus freeze.

"Come, Odessus," Mother beckoned her, the tails of tunic fluttering behind her. "You haven't been home in years. Much has changed."

Odessus swallowed and steeled herself. This wouldn't be forever. Just a couple days. She just had to . . . get there first. She set down her bag in the entryway, sure someone would come along behind her to whisk it away and settle her in. Odessus would normally take care of it herself, but Mother was walking quickly and obviously wanting her to follow. It was a bad idea to leave her waiting.

Her parents' house was cavernous and labyrinthine. Even as a kid, Odessus had to stick to a well-worn route through the house to keep from getting lost. And exploring rooms she wasn't allowed and came with swift and severe reprisals. It just wasn't worth it to stray from the path.

Ahead of her, Odessus saw her father and felt the knot in her gizzard loosen.

"Dad!" she called as she picked up her pace to embrace him. "I thought you'd be at work right now!"

He put an arm around her, his mandibles twitching into a smile. "You think I'd miss you coming home? Not in a million years. How was the flight?"

"It—"

"I hate to interrupt," Mother said, "but we have some business to discuss."

Dad's mandible's dipped in disappointment. "Right now?"

"Do I have reason to delay?" Mother said, her voice steady but hard.

"I . . . guess not," Dad said and released Odessus, cold air rushing around where his arm had been around her shoulders. He looked down at Odessus and pressed his forehead to hers. "We'll talk later, _ma'dulcissi_."

Odessus pulled away from her father and continued following her mother. Immediately, she recognized they were going to a wing of the house she'd never been to before. At the end of a long hallway, they approached tall double doors—the old kind with knobs and locks and everything. Odessus didn't even know this part of the house existed.

Mother pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked the doors, pushing them open to reveal a room with a vaulting ceiling and rows of shelves. Without turning to make sure Odessus was there, Mother continued down a path only she knew, three rows down. There didn't seem to be a pattern to what lay on the shelves. There were side arms and books—the paper kind—and tools Odessus had never seen before and holograms of turians she only recognized from history books.

"This room holds trophies of the Ravaka family's many accomplishments," Mother said. "Dozens of generations are represented here. Some even going back before the Unification War."

Odessus let her hand trail across the shelf in front of her, not wanting to reach past the stasis field protecting the pistol that was clearly one-of-a-kind.

Mother finally turned around to face Odessus, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. "Take what you need."

Odessus dipped her mandibles in confusion. "Take?"

Mother looked at Odessus hard, keeping her mandibles held close to her jaw. "Do I look stupid to you, Odessus?"

Odessus shook her head. Mother was probably the least stupid person she knew. Unfortunately.

"Do you think I wouldn't find out about your little . . . prison break with that human?" she said, taking a slow step toward Odessus. "I don't know what happened, and despite my many inquiries, no one seems to want to share. But I don't need to know the specifics."

"Mother, I can't—"

"I know and I don't care," Mother said. "All I need to know is that you did something bad enough to get kicked out of the military. Someone, somewhere, some time will figure out why, and when they do, it will come back to me. When that time comes, I want distance from you."

Odessus's heart pounded. What . . . what was happening?

Mother walked up to Odessus until they were almost touching. Her heart pounded as she looked directly into Mother's honey-colored eyes. "If I don't want inconvenient questions, I can't disown you. But I know you're toxic, and I don't want your fallout. Take something. A memento, a sentimental reminder of where you come from, whatever. Then leave. Don't come back."

"You don't understand, I—"

"I understand perfectly," Mother said. "I understand that you were a fugitive and aided a prisoner in their escape. I understand that you were on track to be a general with real influence and respect, and now you're a beat cop. I understand that no one is allowed to talk about why that is. I understand that, eventually, I'm going to be affected by whatever bad decisions you've made, like usual. And I. Don't. Want. It."

Nausea threatened to overwhelm Odessus, but she kept her composure. Han had devised the perfect solution to all her problems and it still wasn't enough. _Odessus_ wasn't enough. And she never would be.

For the first time in her life, she looked at her mother and felt relaxed. With nothing on the line, a future where she didn't need to worry about her mother's opinion or her wrath, she felt . . . almost happy.

Without breaking eye contact, Odessus said, "Thank you. I'm good."

She turned away and left the room without looking back. Her head swam, but she still moved forward. If she was lucky, she could still get the next flight back to the Citadel.

"Odessus," Dad said, drawing her out of her thoughts. She stopped and he walked toward her quickly. "Just . . . give your mother time. You know how she is. She'll come around."

Odessus nodded. "Yeah, I know how she is. I'll . . . I'll be in touch. Thanks, Dad."

She found her bag still by the front door—spirits, even the servants knew. A keen built in her chest, but she fought it. She wouldn't let them see her like that.


	10. But I will never forget

Sana had lived on her own since her university days and never thought twice about it. In fact, she preferred living alone. There was something magical in the door closing behind her after a long day of caring for patients and the world slowing and quieting. She didn't have to worry about roommates coming and going or wanting to talk to her about goddess knew what when all she really wanted was to make some food, read, or entertain herself with something quiet and calming.

But Odessus was practically homeless when the Hierarchy unceremoniously dumped her on the Citadel and left her behind. And Sana was sure Odessus was still reeling from all the turns that her life had just taken. With Hannah returned to her own people, Odessus would need someone near her who knew what she'd been through. Sana was happy to be that someone and opened her home to her cousin.

As far as roommates went, Odessus turned out to be perfect for Sana. She kept her room clean and orderly—no doubt a habit from the military—and always picked up after herself, especially in the kitchen. If something needed fixing—a leaky faucet, a door that didn't open all the way, a torn seat cushion—Odessus often fixed it herself without prompting.

And while Sana had dreaded Odessus coming and going at all hours with her variety of bed guests, she needn't have worried. Odessus mostly went to work and came home, occasionally chatted with Sana about her day or about a vid they could go see, and kept herself otherwise busy. Often, Sana would look up to see Odessus with her attention on her 'tool, usually grinning or shaking her shoulders in quiet laughter.

It was a relief to see Odessus settling so well into her new life on the Citadel, but still surprising. Sana had expected to see more grief or uncertainty at such an abrupt change to her life and plans. Instead, Odessus seemed relaxed, happy even.

"I know it's strange," Odessus said when Sana expressed her surprise. Her voice lifted slightly into a higher register— _happiness_. "But after everything with Han, I don't think I could've gone back to the way things used to be. I could easily have been in prison right now. Han did the impossible when she got me this fresh start, and I don't want to waste it."

Sana nodded at that. It made sense. The three of them together had done something incredible.

When Odessus decided suddenly to go home to Taetrus for a short visit, Sana didn't think much of it. It seemed natural that seeing her family would help her handle the final recalibrations to her life. But the look on her face as she left seemed more reluctant, fearful almost. Considering Lavinia's tight hold on Odessus and the choices she made, Sana could understand Odessus's apprehension about telling her mother about her new career.

Only a few days later, Sana heard the front door of her flat open, and she peeked around the corner of the kitchen just in time to see Odessus slump through it, looking a little more than weary from travel.

She grabbed a towel to dry her hands and went to greet her cousin. "I did not expect you back so soon from Taetrus. You must have left almost as soon as you . . . Odessus?"

Odessus didn't appear to register that Sana was speaking to her and turned down the hallway toward her room without as much as a _hello_. Worry began to creep up Sana's neck and she followed Odessus. She found her sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of her.

Sana approached the bed cautiously and sat down slowly. "Odessus? Is everything all right?"

Rapid-fire questions raced through her mind. Who's been injured? Who's died? What's wrong? Did they need to leave? When did they need to leave?

Odessus put her head in her hands and rested her elbows on her knees. "She disowned me, Sana."

Sana felt the blood drain from her face. There was no need to specify who "she" was. Lavinia Ravaka had never been especially affectionate with her children, but she'd always been particularly dissatisfied with Odessus—for what reason, Sana couldn't fathom. But disowning her?

"It's . . . not official," Odessus said, her head still bent in her hands. "But I'm not welcome in the family anymore. She doesn't ever want to see me again."

Anger started to burn in Sana's chest. "I will talk to her."

Odessus stood and started to pace, her hands on her hips. "You can't. Not even Dad could talk her out of it. She doesn't want what happened with Han tainting the Ravaka name or ruining her precious empire of influence."

Her voice was a whirlwind of emotions, and Sana found it difficult to tell in what direction Odessus was upset. Mournful? Resentful? Furious? Dejected? Probably a mixture of all of those and more.

Sana reached out her hand as Odessus paced near her and grabbed her arm. "She cannot know everything that happened with Hannah. It is impossible."

A high keen rose from Odessus's throat. "She doesn't. And she doesn't care. She said so. All she needs to know is that my transfer to C-Sec was tantamount to being kicked out of the military, which means I've done something to embarrass her. Again. For the last time, I guess." She pulled her arm away from Sana, rage flashing in her eyes. "Finally. Good fucking riddance."

Sana shook her head. "You cannot mean that. You love your family."

"Of course I do," Odessus growled. "And if I'm going to lose them, then at least I've lost her and her fucking control games too. No more disappointed looks and speeches about how I embarrass her. No more occasional praise to keep me coming back for more only to be told a new way I'm lacking. No. I'm just as done with her as she is with me."

"But Hadrian, your father," Sana pleaded. "You cannot seriously consider not having them in your life just because your mother—"

"She's not my mother," Odessus snapped. "Just ask her."

There had to be a way to fix this. Sana couldn't just sit there and let Odessus be cut off from her home, her family.

Odessus walked quickly to her closet and threw open the door. She pulled out something dark blue and black and threw it on the bed. "I'm going out," she said, already starting to undress. "Don't wait up."

Sana felt lightheaded. "I understand you are upset, Odessus, but I think it would be better if you talked to me."

Odessus slipped the dress over her shoulders, silk and beads glinting in the movement, and kicked off her leggings. "Tomorrow," she said, securing the knots at her waist. "Right now, I need a drink and you don't have anything hard enough here."

She brushed past Sana on her way to her dresser where her jewelry box sat. Taking two long strings of blue gems, Odessus lifted her leg and clasped them both to the pierced tip of her left spur, a beacon for the sort of company she planned to keep that night.

"If you won't talk to me," Sana said, "at least talk to Hannah."

Her back still to Sana, Odessus paused in the middle of smoothing her dress. Then she left the room and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Sana clenched her fists. Who could do this to their own child? What parent could look at someone like Odessus—accomplished, selfless, determined, resilient—and feel anything but love and pride? As angry as Odessus obviously was—and justifiably—Sana could see the pain she was in just as clearly. Sana's rage burned hot and it needed somewhere to go, soon.

When Odessus emerged from the bathroom, her plates were buffed, her colony markings were crisp and bright, and a floral scent trailed after her when she walked past Sana. She pulled a long black coat from the hall closet and headed toward the door.

"Be safe, please," Sana said to Odessus's back.

Odessus barely acknowledged Sana before leaving. It stung, but Sana could be generous right now. She trusted Odessus would apologize for her behavior toward Sana in a day or two, once she'd blown off some steam.

With the flat quiet and to herself again, Sana started to pace. She needed to blow off some steam too. It took only a moment to make up her mind, and she pulled up her 'tool, reaching out to Taetrus.

"I knew she would go running to you," Lavinia said by way of greeting. "Our affairs are none of your concern."

Sana felt her bile rise. "I am certain that you would prefer it if that were true. Sadly, you have never been more wrong."

"For an asari, you're curiously short-sighted." The call was voice-only, but Sana knew a sneer when she heard one. "I have a responsibility to the people of Taetrus. A responsibility that Odessus compromises every time she does something thoughtless and reckless."

"Your responsibility is to your daughter!" Sana snapped.

"Enough," Lavinia snapped back. "Odessus is no longer welcome in this house, and if you continue to impugn me on her, I'll bar you from conducting family business."

Sana barked a laugh. "Oh yes. Cut out your daughter. Silence me. That way you have control of the narrative. That way the family will never even know that you chose your own best interests over your daughter's. I cannot stop you, Lavinia." Her entire body shook with fury but she kept her voice low and steady. "But I will never forget what you have done here. And when it comes time for me to tell future generations of Ravakas _your_ story—"

The line went dead.

As frustrating as it was not to be able to finish her promise, she knew it had been enough. Even if Lavinia continued to be obstinate, she would at least maneuver more carefully. Lavinia spoke for Odessus now.

In due time, Sana would speak for all of them.


	11. Some people call this wisdom

_Waking_ wasn't really the word.

Did a dead person _wake_?

Did a train wreck _wake_?

Did a natural disaster _wake_?

Odessus didn't imagine any of those things did, so how could she? Why _should_ she?

"You have to go to work," Sana's voice said from somewhere both indeterminate and all-pervasive.

Odessus wanted to shush her, but she didn't know where to direct the shush. She settled for a general, multidirectional groan . . . and instantly regretted it when the vibration reached her head.

"I come bearing pain killers," Sana continued, clearly ignoring Odessus's displeasure and talking altogether too loud. "Time to get up and be a responsible adult who pays bills and copes with emotional trauma in a healthy way."

Odessus reached out and found Sana's hand, cupping the tablets she found there.

Her . . . _everything_ hurt. What happened last night? The last thing she remembered was following a krogan to . . . oh, that explained it.

Odessus took the white tablets and the glass of water. Despite the dryness in her throat, she managed to swallow the pills. Great. In half an hour she'd feel like she wanted to die _later_.

"You are late for work," Sana said again, stepping back and crossing her arms. "I called ahead and said you were sick."

Odessus grunted in response and turned to her other side. It was the best she could manage.

Sana looked at the ground and sighed. "I do get it—"

"How could you possibly?" Odessus growled into her pillow. It was one thing to comfort and console. Another thing entirely to understand.

Sana paused for a long time. "Odessus, I can see that you are hurting," Sana said, her voice a little softer. "And your response is to hurt yourself more, to hurt me, even. By the goddess, Hannah has started sending me messages because you have not answered the ones she sends you. Sooner or later, the hurting has to stop. It is up to you when that happens."

Odessus didn't respond. What could she say? That she didn't want to feel . . . _things_ anymore? That she half-hoped the worst might happen if she was unsafe enough? That half the time she thought her mother was right about her, and the other half of the time she furious that anyone, let alone the person who should know her best, could think so lowly of her?

Still, she found herself checking her 'tool.

 _/HS: You wouldn't believe . . ._

 _/HS: Read this today . . ._

 _/HS: So today . . ._

 _/HS: Hey, is everything okay?_

 _/HS: Dess?_

 _/HS: What's the time lag between the Citadel and Arcturus? I think I have it wrong._

 _/HS: I'm worried. Are you okay?_

Her gizzard twisted and Odessus felt like she was going to be sick.

No, she definitely was going to be sick.

After Odessus had finished evacuating the previous night's poor life choices, she sat on the cool floor with her eyes closed and her back to the wall. Sana was right. Odessus had licked her wounds enough.

The painkillers started to kick in about then, and Odessus felt well enough to shower and make herself presentable for civilized society. When she was dried and dressed, she made her way as best she could to the living room, where Sana sat reading her 'tool.

"I owe you an apology," Odessus said, preferring not to dawdle. "I'm sorry that I've been insufferable these last few days—"

"A week," Sana corrected her without bothering to look up from her 'tool.

"For the last week," Odessus said, nodding. "I've been selfish and hurtful toward people who don't deserve it, including you. You're right. I need to stop doing that. For you as much as myself."

Sana finally looked up and gave a gentle, teasing smile. "Admitting you are wrong and apologizing. Some people call this wisdom." Her expression turned serious again. "What your mother did was unconscionable, and I cannot imagine how much it hurt you."

Odessus shrugged. "I still have Hadrian and my dad? Or probably not. I don't think either one of them would dare defy Mother by talking to me again."

She sat heavily next to Sana on the couch and let her forehead rest in her hands.

"What do you want, Odessus?" Sana asked softly. "Now that your mother is no longer a factor in your life, what is the one thing you would like to do? Something she never would have approved of."

Odessus knew there were things she hadn't done and hadn't pursued because she knew her mother wouldn't approve, but currently, her mind was a blank page with a cursor blinking at her expectantly.

"I don't know," she said truthfully. "I think I'll need some time before I do."

Sana put a hand on Odessus's shoulder and squeezed. "Again with the wisdom. You will be all right, _ma'dulcissi_. In time."

Odessus let out a long breath and stood. "I need to go for a walk." She could see Sana's brow darken and put up a hand to stop her protest. "Just a walk. I need to unfuck my headspace right now, and I can't do that trapped in here."

Sana hummed. "I can prescribe some antidepressants if you think that will help your recovery."

"I thought you were a lowly fertilization expert," Odessus said, making the teasing note in her subvocals obvious even to an asari. "Since when did you become a psychiatrist?"

Sana shrugged and returned to whatever she'd been reading on her 'tool. "You pick things up after a few hundred years." Without looking up, she said, "Are you going to talk to Hannah about it?"

Part of Odessus wanted to keep this ugliness away from Han. The less she knew about Odessus's family, the better. It was . . . embarrassing, at the very least. But another, stronger part of her wanted to tell Han everything. She wanted to apologize for the radio silence and tell her it wasn't Han's fault and that she hadn't done anything wrong. Odessus just needed . . . she just needed to figure some things out for herself.

Odessus sighed. "Yeah, I think so," she said. "Tomorrow maybe. Mother is kind of hard to explain and I need time to put my thoughts together before I start talking to Han about it."

Sana looked up and nodded. "Please be safe. Call me if you need anything."

#

Odessus meant it when she said it was just a walk. Sure, there were clubs like Chora's Den that served dubious entertainment at all hours of the day or night cycle, but that wasn't what Odessus needed right now. She needed . . . she needed to bring order to the chaos of her thoughts and feelings.

 _Mother, please don't do this. I promise it won't happen again._

 _Well, fuck you too then._

 _Han, I think I'm in love with you but you're light-years away and bonded and there's nothing I can do about that._

 _I guess I'm basically a beat cop now. So much for making general someday._

 _I do actually like Internal Affairs, though. It's not flying, but it's rewarding in a different way._

 _Or do I only think that because I'm settling._

 _Han, I wish you were here._

Odessus walked the ward markets for what seemed like hours passing by many of the shops and kiosks without really looking inside. On her third or fourth pass through the markets—it could've been more, she wasn't really keeping count—she caught sight of a curio shop she hadn't noticed before. On a whim, she decided to check it out.

The light in the shop was low and specks of dust floated through the air without ever seeming to land. A young asari sat behind the counter softly tapping into her 'tool. She looked up briefly and nodded toward Odessus in the barest acknowledgement before returning to whatever she was doing. That was fine with Odessus. It was clear neither of them wanted to talk to each other, so why pretend.

Odessus wandered up and down the aisles, browsing what counted for rare and intriguing items from across the galaxy. She could hardly even recognize most of them, but she imagined them being precious to someone who was lucky enough to find this store.

On the last aisle, her breath stopped and her heartbeat quickened. In front of her were rows and rows of paper books with a variety of different covers. She picked one up, hoping it was exactly what she thought it was, and flipped it open—page after lined page was blank.

 _It's not useful_ , her mother's voice said to her, pulling the book from her hands when she was thirteen and still believed the things her parents told her. _We have to think about what's good for everyone, not just ourselves_.

Odessus clutched the book and looked around until she found an accompanying pen. She brought the items to the counter and somehow was able to pay without ever making eye contact with the clerk. She didn't even need a bag. Feeling the paper book and ink pen in her hand was exhilarating, and she didn't want to let go just yet.

When Odessus walked through the door, Sana peeked around the corner from the kitchen. Odessus knew she was trying not to seem obvious about her worry, but honestly, Odessus couldn't blame her if she did. No, she wasn't bringing a strange krogan into her bed tonight. She had something better.

For a moment, Odessus considered going straight to her room, but decided that was wrong. Instead, she went into the kitchen and put her arms around a very surprised Sana.

"Thank you," Odessus said and then released her cousin.

Sana hadn't quite caught her words in time to stop Odessus before she disappeared again into her room.

In the silence and solitude of her own private space, Odessus breathed easily for the first time in what seemed like years. She switched on the lamp at her desk and sat down. She opened the book and twisted off the cap of her pen.

The tip of the pen stopped and hovered over the unblemished page. Odessus hesitated, briefly admiring the blank page for its stark beauty. Then she pressed the tip of the pen to the paper and began her first scrawl since she was thirteen. She knew she would be the only one to benefit, but right now, she could allow this measure of selfishness.


	12. How can I trust you?

Compared to the Citadel, Arcturus felt almost claustrophobic. Maybe it was the size of the station itself, the doorways Dess sometimes had to duck to enter, or the many hard stares directed at her. It had been a little more than a year since the Relay 314 Incident had been resolved, but it was clear that some wounds would still take time to heal.

She and Sana hadn't been on the station for more than a couple days before the stares turned into deliberate shoulder bumps and warnings to watch her step. When she saw them, Hannah was quick to call out the action for what it was and order an apology in a commanding-officer voice that even put steel in Dess's spine. But that was only when she saw them.

Dess understood the distrust, she did. Humans had only just learned about a wider galaxy with customs and rules and laws they didn't fully comprehend yet. And here she was, towering over them in a space they'd thought was safe from the reminder of what they (melodramatically, in her opinion) referred to as the First Contact War. But spirits, did humans have no sense of hospitality or manners?

"I'm sorry," Han said, without Dess ever bringing up the subject. "There's no excuse for the way some of the people here are treating you."

Dess flicked a reassuring smile. "They just need time," she said, and she knew it was true, even if she still resented the rudeness.

Han grimaced. "Hopefully not too much time. Drescher is pushing for opening an embassy on the Citadel, and they're making my job harder."

"I think a little suspicion is a healthy thing," Michael said from across the room. He'd barely said five words together since Dess and Sana had arrived, and she'd almost forgotten he was there. "Necessary, even. What are we supposed to do? Just trust billions of aliens blindly?"

Han made that face that meant she was biting the inside of her lip. "We have to start somewhere."

Dess got the feeling they were treading into a well-worn disagreement, and she shifted her weight uneasily. Thankfully, Michael went back to the datapad he'd been reading, and Han didn't push the subject further.

#

On days when Han had to work, Odessus could stay in the visitor housing while Sana went for walks to see the rest of the station. She seemed to have an easier time navigating the humans. Most of them were polite to Sana, sometimes even pleasant. Sana didn't like leaving Odessus behind, but her curiosity was also obvious.

"We crossed the galaxy to get here," Odessus said. "At least one of us should get to actually see the place."

Sana hesitated but eventually agreed. "I will take pictures and send them to you. The hospital director here has agreed to take me on a tour of their facilities."

Odessus shook her head. "Please don't send me pictures of dead bodies, Sana."

"One time I did that." She huffed. "I thought your sense of scientific discovery was more mature than it is."

Odessus chuckled and returned to the novel Han had given her to read as Sana headed out the door. She was barely a handful of pages into the story when she heard a knocking.

Odessus sighed and closed her 'tool as she stood to answer the door. "Did you forget your—oh, hello."

Michael stood in front of her door, his jaw twitching and his hands clasped behind his back in parade rest. "Ravaka," he said, nodding toward her.

Odessus stood to the side. "Please, come in. Hannah's not here, though."

He brushed past her into the small accommodations, looking over the room as if looking for a trap. "I know," he said and turned his attention to Odessus. "I was hoping to talk with you. Alone."

Confusion and uneasiness were quickly building in Odessus's chest, but still she swept out her hand to invite Michael to sit. "Of course. Nothing wrong I hope?"

Michael shook his head and remained standing. "I guess that depends on your perspective. I have something to say and I need you to listen. A year ago, I thought Han was dead and then she wasn't and she tells me it was you who kept her alive and safe. So. Thank you."

"You're welcome?"

"I'm not finished," he said curtly. She clamped her mandibles to her jaw in annoyance but stayed quiet, letting him continue. "But you're also the one who tried to kill her in the first place. I saw what you people did at Shanxi. I know you're Han's friend, but you're also a turian. If we end up on different sides of a fight again, I can't help thinking you'd choose being a turian over being Han's friend."

Cold fury curled like smoke in the pit of her stomach, and it took a moment before she could answer Michael with any measure of calmness. "You came here to tell me you don't trust me."

His lips tightened into a straight line and he shook his head once. "Not . . . not exactly. I just want to know. I need to know. How can I trust you?"

"Trust Han," she said simply. "She trusts me."

He shook his head and turned away from Odessus, starting to pace the small space. "Han trusts everyone."

 _Apparently_ , Odessus thought. _She trusted you not to come here and be rude to me, but here we are_.

"It sounds like you already have an answer to your question," Odessus said, intoning some of her anger in her subvocals so he wouldn't hear it. "Again, you don't trust me."

Michael sighed. "I want to, though. Or I want to want to. You're important to Han, and I just want to be sure she doesn't get hurt when you let her down."

Odessus had had enough. "Thank you for your honesty, Michael. I think you should leave."

Michael looked up at Odessus for a long moment before nodding and walking quickly out the door. The moment she was alone, Odessus let out a full-throated growl. She started to pace, clenching and unclenching her fists. She wanted to break something—if Michael had stayed much longer, it might've been his face. But she imagined Han wouldn't be very happy with her if she did that.

She changed her clothes and left the room for the gym. She needed to hit something and the stares and sneers couldn't stop her.

#

Michael found reasons to be busy for the rest of the time Dess was there, which suited her fine. She'd considered telling Han about what he'd said to her, but ultimately she decided that would just upset Han and ruin the rest of her visit. They lived so apart, and she wanted to enjoy every moment she could with Han.

On the last night of her trip, Dess lay awake—travel always made her wakeful—while Sana slept soundly and felt her wrist vibrate.

 _/HS: Meet me at the docks. I want to show you something._

As quietly as she was able, Dess dressed and made her way to meet Han. The halls, normally alive with energy and movement, were still and nearly silent, as if the station itself was asleep. She found Han standing in the waiting area with her back turned to Dess, looking out the wide picture windows as ships passed in front of her.

For just a moment, she watched Han stand there, her hair loose and almost glowing in the low blue light. Dess let herself be breathless at the sight of Han for a few brief seconds before she finally called her name to get her attention.

Han turned her shoulders and smiled, nodding her head toward the window. When Dess finally reached her, Han said, "I can't let you leave without showing you my favorite place on Arcturus."

Despite the late hour, some ships were still coming and going, sliding easily and quietly in front of them like fish in water. "Most of the docking bays are closed right now," Han explained, "but there a few on the other side of the station that never close. Galactic freight never sleeps I guess."

She turned and walked to the line of seats in the waiting area and sat down, crossing her legs and patting the seat next to her. Dess took the invitation and leaned back, crossing her arms.

"I know it's just ships," Han said, leaning forward and returning her attention to the window. "But I just think they're beautiful."

"They are," Dess agreed, though she was more interested in watching Han watch the ships. _They really are_.

Han leaned back and rested her head on Dess's shoulder. "I'm glad you're here," she said. "I know it's been kind of a crazy visit and people were rude to you a few times." She looked up at Dess and smiled. "But at least now I know what it's like to be around you when we're not fugitives."

Dess chuckled. "Yeah. You still have to see more of the Citadel than just the Keeper tunnels, too."

Han nodded. "I'm already packing my bags."

They sat in a comfortable silence for what seemed like an eternity, and even then, Dess didn't want it to end.

"It's late," Han whispered, her voice sounding heavy with sleep. "Sorry if I kept you awake. I just . . . I'm gonna miss you and I wanted to share this with you."

Han stood and held out a hand to help Dess up. Dess surprised even herself that her hand didn't shake as she took Han's.

They walked back to Dess's room in silence and said their goodbyes at the door. Laying once again in the dark, sleep continued to evade Dess. Her hand buzzed with sensation where Han had helped her. When she closed her eyes, she saw Han silhouetted against that window in the docking bay, and her heart raced. Who could sleep when they had that memory to think about instead?

This had been the best trip she'd ever had.


	13. People like you have no imagination

_It started straightforward enough._

Cassia poked her head above the divider that separated her desk from Ravaka's to see if she was there and, finding the object of her interest present and head down in work, grinned.

"Hey, Ravaka," she said. "What are you up to tonight?"

Ravaka spared a glance up but otherwise didn't stop reviewing the incident report on her desk. "Breathing, probably. Eating, too. Maybe sleeping at some point."

Cassia walked around her desk until she was standing beside Ravaka's, rolling her eyes as she approached. "People like you have no imagination. I'm not doing anything either, which is very boring. How about you come over to my place and we fuck instead?"

Ravaka felt her neck burn instantly, her concentration thoroughly broken. She put down the report to stand up and closed the door to their shared office. "Spirits, you'd think I'd be used to you by now," she grumbled.

Cassia flared her mandibles in a grin wide enough to show her teeth. "I try very hard to keep people from getting used to me. So?"

"So what? Are you serious?" Ravaka felt her mandibles go slack in surprise.

Cassia gave an impatient _tsk_. "Of course I'm serious. Listen, I have a great need and you currently meet two of my three criteria: you're turian and you're not in a relationship. I'm not looking for a bondmate here, just a bedmate." She looked down and ran a long, considering finger across the top of the desk. "That's just an expression, you know. We don't have to use a bed."

Ravaka closed her eyes and shook her head. "I can't believe I'm going to ask this. What's the third criterion?"

Cassia blinked at her as if she'd grown a salarian head on her shoulder. "That you be game for it, obviously. I'm not a monster. So what do you say?" She tilted her head, her neon orange markings shimmering with the movement, and looked at Ravaka through hooded eyes. "I know you hate to leave anything . . . _unfinished_. Care to make it three for three?"

Ravaka shook her head again and went back to her chair. "This is C-Sec. There are turians everywhere, plenty of whom are not in relationships and are more than willing to fuck for the asking. Why me?"

Cassia lifted her hip over the corner of the desk and leaned forward, dropping her voice an octave as she spoke. "I prefer my turians slightly less spiky. No one wants to lose an eye if things get a bit . . . vigorous." She traced the curve of her talon—smooth and cool—along the underside of one of Ravaka's mandibles, making her shiver. "More importantly, for as long as we've been partners, I've never seen you attached to anyone. With your . . . assets, you could have anyone you wanted, so I figure you're single by choice. Which is perfect because I don't want attachments either. I prefer my sex life to be as uncomplicated as possible, don't you?"

Ravaka was not blind to the way Cassia leaned and twisted to showcase her narrow waist—which was definitely worth showcasing—or the way she stretched and curved her long neck to bring her gaze level with Ravaka's. Then she caught the smell of her—crisp and clean—and she could feel heat start to stir in her abdomen. Still.

"You're quite the romantic, Cassia," she said, careful to school her subvocals into not revealing her growing interest. "If you're not careful, your overtures just might make me dizzy. Thank you for the offer, but I'm not interested."

Cassia gave Ravaka a slow up-and-down look, dipping her mandibles suggestively, then shrugged and stood again. "Ah well. Can't blame me for asking. It's an open offer, so ping me if you ever change your mind." She turned as if to go back to her desk but paused and looked over her shoulder. "Just keep in mind that there are benefits to biotics off the clock. A well-placed stasis field can be quite . . . stunning."

Ravaka's neck was aflame once again as Cassia went back to her desk.

#

 _But then it got complicated._

Two months went by, and Cassia didn't bring up her proposition again. Well, not verbally. Occasionally, Ravaka would catch a glance from her—one brow plate raised, one mandible twitched in a question—but it would be gone as quickly as it had been there. She was not subtle about leaning or bending to the side or stretching her neck, and Ravaka caught more than a few of their colleagues failing to suppress their appreciative subvocals.

While she had no romantic interest in Cassia—she rarely had romantic interest in anyone—she wasn't made of stone either. However, she was _also_ keen on keeping her sex life simple. Call it paranoia, but something about Cassia screamed _complicated_. The thought of locking spurs with her rarely occurred to Ravaka—only when Cassia herself was doing her level best to bring it up without bringing it up.

Sana laughed when Odessus told her about it. "I have never known you to turn down an invitation into someone's bed," she said, grinning at her.

"Nearly everyone is not Cassia," Odessus said.

Sana tapped a finger to her cheek in an embellished gesture of consideration. "Come to think of it, you have not been your usual maiden self. You will go weeks, sometimes months at a time even without looking for your typical one-night stand."

Odessus shrugged again in an effort to appear nonchalant, but she also studiously avoided eye contact with Sana. Her cousin, of course, did not miss the expression.

"Perhaps there is someone else?" Sana grinned. "A love affair you have managed to keep hidden from me?"

Dess rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Please. You know I'm not the settling down type. Spirits, I'm hardly even the love type."

Sana's eyes brightened at that. "You said _hardly_. Meaning there has been an exception?"

She flared her mandibles in agitation. "If I swore on the spirit of Palaven that there's no one and I've never been in love, will you stop needling?"

"Only if you could truly swear such an oath, Odessus Ravaka."

 _Snag_. "Fine, I could swear it to the first part but not the second. It's happened twice. The first time ended disastrously, and the second was . . . unavailable. I'm fine without any romantic attachments. And none of that has anything to do with Cassia anyway."

Sana nodded, but her smile softened a little. "Perhaps that second one is not quite in the past?"

"Drop it, Sana," Dess said, making the warning in her voice clear.

Sana turned away and shook her head. "I never thought I would say this, but perhaps Cassia would be good for you. If this unavailable love is proving troublesome, she might help you to move on."

The thought of Han's smile and the softness of her fingertips and the ring of her laughter filled Dess's mind before she could stop it, and she felt that familiar tug in her chest. Truthfully, she didn't know if she wanted to move on. There was no reason to think her feelings would ever be reciprocated, but that didn't bother her. She liked the way Han made her feel even if it never turned into more. But it also felt wrong somehow. She wasn't sure how these feelings were supposed to work, but it felt dishonest. She'd never _ask_ Han for more, but the _wanting_ more felt like a betrayal of her trust. Perhaps moving on, however much she didn't want to, would be best for everyone.

"Oh, by the way," Sana broke through her thoughts with a beaming smile. "I spoke to Hannah earlier today. Apparently, the Alliance is loaning her ship to the Citadel fleet. In less than a month, she and Michael and Allistair will be stationed here."

 _Oh. Oh no._

"Hannah has given me power of attorney to find a place for them to live because the Alliance does not have any housing here yet," she continued. "Obviously, I will try to find them a place as close to us as possible. Odessus, are you all right? You look unwell."

Hannah. On the Citadel. Living there. No longer half a dozen relays away, but practically next door. _Shit_. Sana was right. She needed to move on. And fast.

#

 _So she tried to make it less complicated._

After her talk with Sana, Ravaka decided that, if nothing else, taking Cassia up on her offer would at least be good stress relief. Cassia didn't waste any time; she gave Ravaka the passcode to her apartment building and a time to be there later that evening. When Ravaka showed up, Cassia practically yanked her into the entryway and went straight to work on her neck and waist. Ravaka had to gently push her away to give herself some room.

"A little eager?" she teased and flicked her mandibles in a grin that said _no hard feelings, just slow down_.

"Ah, is your usual company a little more blue?" she said and giggled. _Giggled_.

Ravaka shook her head. "Hardly. You don't have to wine and dine me, but I do like a little buildup first."

Cassia gave a lopsided grin and turned to show Ravaka inside. "All right, you win. Come on, I'll make you a drink."

She led Ravaka into her apartment and waved an arm toward the sofa for her to sit. She disappeared behind a dry bar and stood again holding a bottle of very expensive horosk from Cipritine. She dropped two ice cubes into a tumbler and poured a healthy amount of the liquor over it. When she walked it over to Ravaka, she was still grinning, as if she knew something Ravaka didn't.

She took the glass. "Now you're just trying to make me feel special. I saw the label."

"Well, you did say you wanted a buildup." She paused before continuing. "If you're uncomfortable with this, we don't have to do anything at all. I meant it about you being game. If you're unsure, we can watch a vid or do something else instead."

Ravaka shook her head. "No, it's not that. I'm just not used to," she paused, trying to figure out what it was that was keeping her from doing what she came here to do. "I'm not used to being pursued. I'm usually the one doing the pursuing."

She took a sip of the brandy, enjoying the pleasant burn down her throat, and turned the glass in her hands. When she looked up, Cassia was still smiling, but she'd lost that teasing edge. "I know I'm forward," she said, "but I listen. If I say or do anything that makes you feel unsure, just tell me and I'll stop." She leaned back and looked at her drink, slowly swirling it. "I'm not sure why you haven't been pursued. You have a very distracting waist, you know."

Ravaka chuckled at that and took another sip. "Thanks, I think."

Cassia stood then and made her way up the stairs to the split level above the main floor. "I'll be right back," she said over her shoulder. "I can hear you still, so keep talking if you want."

Ravaka didn't know what to say, so she sipped again at her drink, slowly. It was good brandy, but she didn't want to get too buzzed. From where she sat, she could see Cassia slip behind a changing screen and start to undress. She felt as if she were intruding and looked away quickly. Why was she feeling so awkward about this? She'd slept with more strangers than she could remember and plenty of crewmates during her tours. Why was this one coworker making her hesitate?

 _Because you don't want to let go of Han_ , she thought.

There was more truth in that thought than she wanted to admit, and it made her pause. After another sip of the brandy, she was decided. This evening would be the first step in putting those feelings away.

When Cassia stepped around the screen again, she'd changed into something that made Ravaka swallow hard and stare for longer than she meant to. Burnt orange silk and boning pinched her waist and flared over her hips. Talk about distracting.

Cassia obviously understood her expression and gave her another lopsided grin as she sauntered over to Ravaka and then straddled her.

She dipped down and slid her mandible against Ravaka's, followed by her tongue. "See something you like?" she said when her mouth drew near to Ravaka's ear.

All Odessus could do was nod and slide the palms of her hands over Cassia's hips and up to her waist. Ravaka let her eyes roam along with her hand until finally she met Cassia's challenging gaze.

"Just sex," Ravaka said, already feeling the warm tightening in her pelvic muscles.

"If you want me to sign a contract I will," Cassia said as she dipped her fingers into Ravaka's tunic to undo the clasps there. Her breath ghosted over Ravaka's neck when she spoke and made her shiver. "Just get these clothes off so we can get to the sex part."

Ravaka drew the tip of her tongue from the small divot in Cassia's neck up to her jaw and nipped at the soft hide there, reveling in the way she gasped and tensed. She tasted cool and clean, like water.

Cassia finished with the clasps, and her hands found their way inside Odessus's tunic to drag the blunt ends of her talons agonizingly, feather-lightly down her waist. It was Ravaka's turn to gasp and tense. She moved her hands to Cassia's back and dragged her fingers up the firm ridge of her spine, making her arch into the contact.

Ravaka moved Cassia aside then, and finished removing her tunic. Before she could start on her leggings, Cassia took her hand and pulled her up. With her palms pressing firmly against her waist and her tongue brushing over Ravaka's mouth plates, she closed her eyes and breathed, "I want you. Right now."

Ravaka couldn't argue with that. She let go of Cassia and undressed herself the rest of the way. She followed Cassia up the short steps to where her bed lay, open and inviting.

Ravaka felt no particular affection for Cassia beyond casual friendship, and she was certain that lack of affection was mutual. But there was still something intoxicating about her. Their legs and limbs twined in the silken sheets, and fingers and tongues found their way to each other's most sensitive places. And as Cassia nipped and licked her plates open, Ravaka couldn't chase away the thought of Han's lips and tongue against her.

Was she warm? Was she eager? Would she press her shoulders into the mattress and pin her to the bed, like this? Would her red hair cascade around them, warm and dark? Would her slim fingers press into her until pleasure enflamed every nerve ending? How did she taste? Would she let Dess fill her up with her tongue and arch into her touch? Would she call out Dess's name as her walls clamped down around her? Would she pull her up to kiss her, to taste herself?

Cassia, with her arms and legs thrown over Ravaka, panted against her neck. "Well, that was pretty fantastic. I get why you were nervous before. You've got it pretty bad, don't you?"

Ravaka stilled in the middle of stroking Cassia's spine. "I don't know what you mean."

Cassia leaned up and raised a brow plate at her. "You were clearly thinking about someone else." Ravaka started to protest, but Cassia stopped her. "I'm not offended. Everyone thinks of someone else during sex from time to time. But I do have to ask if this is going to be a problem. Am I some kind of substitute?"

Ravaka sighed and traced the blunt side of her talons down Cassia's arm, appreciating the supple muscles just below her leathery plates. No point in denying it. "No," she said. "Not exactly. I just . . . I need to move on."

Cassia nodded, her expression solemn. "Rebound. I can live with that. Spirits, after this little encounter, I hope you come to me for all your rebounds. If you give me a minute, I'll help you rebound again tonight." She disentangled herself from Ravaka and rolled away, then twisted to meet her gaze again. "But if you want to move on, you're going to have to try. That means you can't think about them. Think about me. Think about the last asari you fucked. Think about fucking a hanar if you want. Just, not them. You're not doing yourself any favors by thinking about the person you're trying to get over."

Ravaka knew Cassia was right and nodded. This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

#

 _And more complications._

They fucked semiregularly after that and learned each other quickly. As the days drew closer to Han moving to the Citadel, Dess grew more anxious. A mixture of excitement and guilt pulled her in all directions from one hour to the next, and it was exhausting. When she and Cassia were together—off the clock—Odessus redoubled her efforts to think of anyone but Han, and she even had some success. Mostly, however, trying not to think of Han only made Odessus think of her more.

This was not good.

Cassia stepped around the divider that separated her desk from Odessus's and crossed her arms. "You're more tense than usual," she said, apparently seeing no reason to mince her words. "Not just at night, but here. On the job. What's the deal, Ravaka?"

Odessus shook her head. "It's nothing," she said.

"Varren shit."

"Okay," Odessus said, rolling her eyes and turning in her chair to grab the file farthest from their conversation. "It's nothing that concerns you."

"You're a terrible liar, Ravaka," Cassia said, her subvocals vibrating in a mixture of frustration and humor. "It's your . . . love . . . thing. Isn't it."

With her back still turned, Odessus clamped down on her own subvocals. "It's under control. Don't worry about it."

"Save us both some time, Ravaka," Cassia said, the tone of humor diminishing rapidly. "Tell me what's going on."

Odessus turned around, her stomach already in knots. "I . . . she's moving here. To the Citadel. In three days."

Cassia's expression softened and she uncrossed her arms. "I see. And you're . . ."

"Handling it," Dess snapped.

Cassia pulled out the chair on the other side of Odessus's desk and sat down. "Why don't you tell me about her?"

The image of Han's smiling face came to mind, and Odessus felt her heart pound. "That's not a good idea."

Cassia sighed and leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk. "Look, I get it." She shook her head. "I mean, I don't, but I do understand that you're psyching yourself out. Your lady friend is going to get here in a few days, and a few days after that life, I promise you, is going to be completely normal again. You just gotta get there first."

The thought of even just three days away seemed like an infinity, both contained and incomprehensible. After that? Ravaka couldn't even fathom what that looked like.

"Thanks," she said, her subvocals betraying her anxiety.

"Spirits," Cassia said, her voice filled with humor and wonder again. "She must be something special."

The memory of the way Han had clutched her hand, promising she would do everything she could to keep Dess safe from the furious retribution of her old commander. The intensity and sincerity behind her eyes—pale green with just the barest hints of blue—had overwhelmed Dess, and she knew Han would do it, she would do the impossible. That was the moment she realized how she felt about Han, and even then, she knew there would be no going back.

 _Something special_.

 _Yeah_.

 _Fuck_.


	14. You should have seen it

Aside from Hadrian's kids, Dess hadn't spent much time around children. Not that she disliked them, but they just weren't a part of her life for the most part. When Han asked her to look after Alli for a few days while she went to Arcturus, Dess had agreed without hesitation. Then, as it occurred to her that she was suddenly entirely responsible for a child, her internal alarm bells started ringing.

Luckily, as far as kids went, Alli was good . . . during occasional visits. Dess had no idea about meal schedules, bed times, hygiene, allergies, homework, nutrition, extracurricular activities, enrichment—Spirits, she was going to break Alli, wasn't she? Even if Han was only on Arcturus for a few days, Dess was certain she'd screw it up.

Dess glanced down at Alli and noticed her hand was red and scraped. "Alli what's wrong with your fingers? They're pinker than normal."

Alli turned her hand and frowned. "I got in a fight."

 _Great_ , Dess thought. That seems like something she should leave to Han to deal with, but she didn't know when she'd be back. What do you ask a kid who's been in a fight?

Dess sighed. She couldn't say nothing at all. "Are you all right?"

Alli didn't answer the question but just kept her eyes on the door where Han had left in a hurry without any explanation only moments ago. Dess just knew she'd said the wrong thing.

Spirits, she should not have kids.

#

Sana was surprised to find a new guest in the house, but she seemed to take the change in stride. As soon as Alli had found her room to settle in, Odessus rounded on Sana.

"How are you so calm about this?" she said, keeping her voice to a loud whisper. "We have no idea what a human child needs. We could poison her and not even know it until she's dead. When does she sleep? Do we have to talk to her teachers? I know I don't know how human kids work. Do you?"

Sana patted Odessus on the mandible and laughed softly. "You worry too much, Odessus. Allistair is not a porcelain doll. She will tell you what she needs from you. You just need to listen."

Dess wasn't so sure, but Han had left Alli in her care without a second thought. If Han trusted Dess, the least Dess could do was trust Han.

#

It was true that Alli seemed mostly self-sufficient. She made her own dinner with some of the instant meals they'd brought from her home, and as the evening went on, she showered and brushed her teeth without prompting. All in all, she was very little trouble and kept mostly to herself. But . . . was that how kids were supposed to act? Should Dess be worried that Alli didn't need much?

Dess tapped against the door frame outside Alli's room and glanced around inside. Alli sat cross-legged on the bed, surrounded by datapads. Her bag was still on the floor, open with some crumpled articles of clothing spilling out of it. Her hair was a dark red from the damp, and she'd twisted it into a braid over her shoulder. Probably something she always did, right? It looked like it was, anyway.

"Hey, Alli," she said, unsure of what her caretaker responsibilities were in the evening. "Are you hungry?"

Alli held up a container of orange sticks. "I brought my night carrots," she said. "Don't worry, they don't leave crumbs."

Dess felt like there was probably an argument there and this was some kind of compromise Alli was honoring, even in her parents' absence. It was encouraging to know Alli was managing her own behavior, and Dess felt her shoulders relax a bit. She caught a glimpse of Alli's hand again, and the knuckles were starting to turn purple.

She quirked her mandibles in worry, but kept that to herself. Alli hadn't invited her into the room, so Dess leaned against the door frame. "How's your hand?" she asked, aiming for calm and unworried.

Alli shrugged and tucked her hand under her leg. "Hurts a little, but it's fine."

 _What would Dad have done if I'd gotten in a fight_ , she wondered.

"Do you . . . want to talk about it?" she offered, nervous that she might be overstepping.

Alli put one datapad down and picked up another, steadily keeping her eyes averted from Dess. "I'm supposed to go to sleep soon, but I still have a lot of homework, so."

Dess nodded. Message received. Sana said to listen, so she would listen. She turned to leave Alli to her own devices, but stopped when Alli called after her.

"Ms. Dess?" When Dess turned back, Alli was biting her lip and looking very much like she did want to talk about it. "Do turians . . . do you have biotics?"

Dess nodded. "Sure. I'm not, but I've known a few. My partner at C-Sec is biotic."

"So, you, like, don't mind it?" Alli asked. "Like, you don't think they're freaks or anything."

Dess had an idea about what that fight had been about, but she could understand why Alli might be skirting the issue. "Only small-minded idiots think biotics are freaks."

Dess could see Alli's shoulders relax, but the look of anxiety on her face didn't go away. She twitched her mandibles in discomfort. That was probably the wrong thing to say, wasn't it? Of course it was. She rubbed the back of her neck nervously.

"Fighting is okay, you know," she said. "It can even be necessary."

Alli shrugged one shoulder and leaned against one arm propped on her knee. "I don't know if Mom will think so."

Dess twitched a half smile. "I know your mom. She's kind and gentle and warm and loving. She doesn't seem like the type to fight, I know. But she's also a soldier. She knows that sometimes you _have_ to fight back. To protect others, to protect yourself. Fighting back sometimes means violence."

Alli took a deep breath, and her eyes turned pink as they became watery.

 _Oh no oh no oh no no no no no._

Dess walked to the bed and sat down at the foot, not sure if Alli needed someone close or far.

"Your mom adores you," Dess said. "There's nothing you can do that will ever change that. Especially not if you kicked some bully's ass."

Alli laughed as a tear spilled down her cheeks. "I know," she said. "But what if she gets mad at me?"

Dess shook her head. "I guarantee that if she found out you fought a bully to stand up for yourself, she'd take you out for . . . whatever your favorite treat is."

Alli half-smiled and wiped away the tear from her cheek. "Yeah, I guess so." She picked up her datapad again but didn't seem to focus on it. She looked again at Dess and said. "Thanks. I feel better."

Dess nodded and left the room, letting out a deep breath and passing a hand over her face.

Okay. That was . . . not bad. Maybe she could do this for a few days. Alli was a good kid. Precocious. Anxious. She reminded Dess of her younger self in some ways.

Sana was right. Dess needed to listen.

#

Odessus couldn't sit still. There was a rock in her spurs and she couldn't seem to shake it. She went from bouncing her leg up and down to pacing the small office space to tapping her desktop as she tried and failed to focus on whatever case file was in front of her . . . bribing or . . . something.

"Ravaka!" Cassia finally snapped. "What the fuck is wrong with you today? You're making _me_ uncomfortable and that has literally never happened before."

"Sorry," Odessus said and sat down again. "I'm just . . . anxious, I guess."

"Whatever it is," Cassia said, her voice trilling with annoyance, "just take care of it. Go home if you have to. It's not like you're getting a lot done here."

Odessus tapped her desk a few more times and then did a quick search on her 'tool. Satisfied, she nodded. "You're right. I'll be back tomorrow. I just gotta . . . do something."

Cassia didn't even look up. "Fine. Whatever. Just go and let me work in peace."

Odessus shut down her work station and took the first transport back to her ward, stopping near Han's apartment and catching another car to Alli's school. As she approached the doors, she paused. Would they let Alli leave early? Dess wasn't a parent or even a relative. Her mandibles fluttered in uncertainty, but she pushed through the doors anyway and headed for the administration office.

"I'm here to pick up Allistair Keegan Shepard," she told the receptionist, not bothering with a preamble.

The salarian hardly looked up at her. "Name and relation."

"Um, Odessus Ravaka . . . family . . . friend." How was she supposed to know their relation?

To her surprise, she heard a positive ding when the receptionist typed in her name. "Reason," the receptionist said, still not looking up from their terminal.

Oh, she needed a reason. What was believable? "A doctor's . . . visit . . . appointment."

The salarian looked up at her and blinked steadily with both eyelids. It wasn't even a look of suspicion or disbelief. It was a deflated, weary look of _I don't have time for this_.

Despite the burn in her neck, Dess doubled down. "Her parents are deployed right now and left me in charge. I . . . really don't know about human juveniles, so I'm not really sure how this goes."

There. That wasn't exactly a lie.

The salarian blinked slowly again and took a deep breath. They pressed the red button next to their terminal and Dess was absolutely certain she was about to be escorted off the property. She was about to bring out her C-Sec badge when the salarian finally spoke.

"Allistair Keegan Shepard, please report to the front office," they said in the flattest tone Dess had ever heard.

Half of Dess was relieved she wouldn't have to argue. The other half of her was indignant.

 _Really? You let just anyone walk in here and take one of your kids. Really? How about I open an investigation into this school's screening processes? How about that?_

None of which she said, of course, because she was getting her way. Still, her mandibles clicked in annoyance as she waited for Alli to arrive.

When Alli walked through the door, she was white as a sheet and looking as terrified as Dess ever wanted to see her. When Alli saw Dess, the terror in her eyes softened to confusion, and Dess knew she had to speak before Alli said anything.

"You have that . . . doctor's appointment . . . thing." Dess berated herself internally for still tripping over her own excuse. "Remember?"

Alli had no compunction at all about jumping on the lie. Her eyes brightened and she nodded quickly. "Yes!" She looked around Dess at the receptionist. "They need to look at my pancreas," she said. "You know how it is."

The receptionist had returned their focus to their terminal and didn't even acknowledge that Alli had spoken. Dess felt compelled to corroborate Alli's flourish, but instead, she ushered them quickly out of the office and out of the school.

A bright smile lit up Alli's face as she adjust the bag on her shoulder. "So what's this doctor's appointment?"

Dess shook her head. She wasn't sure how she felt about a human child being able to lie better than an adult turian, but that was probably a question for another time. "When I was your age, my father would've said we were going for a lesson. I'll tell you it's a surprise. Wait until we get there."

Alli huffed, but the excitement behind her eyes told Dess she wasn't even nearly upset. Dess flicked her mandibles in half a grin and left Alli to wonder about her plans.

It was a quiet ride to their destination, with Alli focused on the datapad for one of her classes the whole time. Dess could say this for the kid: she was dedicated.

When they arrived at the stadium, Alli stepped out of the car and looked up in wonder. Her eyes went from one side of the announcement board—"Mannovai Marauders," she said—to the other—"Cipritine Sirens."

Dess grinned. "It's the training season," she explained. "Harder to make time in the middle of the day to see a game, but the crowds are smaller."

Alli looked up, confusion in her eyes. "What game?"

Dess waved a hand and started walking toward the entrance. "Biotiball, of course."

Alli jogged to keep up with Dess's long stride. "I don't know what that is," she said.

"It's simple," Dess said, but when she started to explain the rules, it suddenly stopped being so simple. "Just watch the game. You'll love it, I promise."

They stopped at the concessions and Dess got some graxen for herself but didn't quite know what would be okay for Alli. She didn't have to worry though—Alli knew what was good for Alli, and soon they were settled in their seats, waiting for the game to begin.

From the first biotic charge, Alli was captivated, and Dess breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Alli chewed absentmindedly at her chosen snack—a "hot dog" with "all the fixin's"—and Dess's attention was divided between cheering for the Sirens and waiting for Alli to put the pieces together. Throughout the whole game, Alli didn't make a noise, but Dess was confident that she was enjoying it—in her way.

Finally, the game ended and the Sirens lost by three points because the refs were clearly inept, but Dess couldn't care less. The lights on the Citadel were starting to lower, ushering in the station's night cycle.

"So what'd you think?" Dess asked as they waited for a sky car.

Alli stood with her arms crossed and looked at the crowd of people leaving the game, a serious look on her face. "They were all biotics," she said.

"Of course," Dess said, finally getting the attention of a car. "That's what makes it biotiball."

"Everyone in the bleachers was cheering," she said, her face still solemn. "Like. They didn't boo or anything. They didn't think the players were freaks."

Dess shrugged her shoulders. "Biotics are an everyday thing in the galaxy. Not everyone has them, but they're still common. They even get their own sport. A popular sport, too."

Alli frowned. "There weren't any humans down there, though."

Dess nodded and put a hand on Alli's shoulder. "That's probably because all the human biotics are still about your age. Give it a few years. You'll have your own team."

A sky car glided to a stop in front of them and Dess opened the door to let Alli in first. The ride home was short, but it was enough for Alli to shake the solemnness that had darkened her features. She asked Dess if she remembered different plays and impressive feats of biotics that Alli hadn't even known were possible. Dess mostly just quietly agreed. It was best if Alli figured out the parts she liked best for herself.

By the time they reached home, Alli had an excited energy that radiated off her. She caught sight of Sana and ran to throw her arms around her.

"Ms. Sana!" she said. "You should have seen it. Two whole teams of biotics! Why didn't you tell me about biotiball!"

Sana chuckled and put her arms around Alli's shoulder and looked at Dess, mouthing, _What did you do?_

Dess shrugged and thought, _I just listened_.


	15. I'll tell you but you're not gonna like

Once Han had finally fallen asleep, Dess slipped quietly out of the apartment but didn't go home immediately. She needed time to digest everything Han had said about Michael and Cerberus. If Han's instincts were correct—and Dess believed they were—there was a human supremacist group out there that was at best harassing their own people's supply lines, and at worst, they were actively recruiting terrorists. Like Michael.

She couldn't say she was shocked Michael had gotten involved with dangerous xenophobes—like spirits attracted each other—but Han had clearly had higher hopes for him. A growl built in her chest as she thought about that steaming pile of varren shit. How could he do that to Han? Put her in danger? Deceive her? Break her trust? Dess almost wished that burner 'tool had led her to an affair. This kind of infidelity was so much worse, and it had left Han a ghost of herself in its wake. If Michael weren't already dead, Dess would've throttled him.

In the low light of the night cycle, Dess walked the length of the ward and back again. She had too much anxious energy to go home and to bed like she knew should do. She'd promised Han she'd help, that they'd figure out Cerberus together, but it was going to be difficult. The scope of her investigations would be restricted to the Citadel, which was significant but still limited. They needed someone on the outside, someone who moved freely around the galaxy. Someone skilled in recon.

Dess closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The worst he could do was tell her no.

 _/OR: Hey, Nyx. Next time you're on the Citadel, let's catch up. It's been too long!_

#

It took a few weeks to work out their schedules, but finally, Ravaka found herself standing in the entry of quiet restaurant that specialized in Palavenian dishes, her gizzard twisting itself in knots when she saw Nyx sitting at the bar. When Nyx caught sight of her, his mandibles spread in a wide grin and he stood to greet her. "Look what the klixen dragged in," he said and clapped her on the shoulder.

Ravaka put an affectionate arm around his shoulder. "You're looking your age too, you know." She indicated on her own neck where a long scar was on his now. "You lose a fight to a Thresher Maw?"

He chuckled. "Pyjack actually. Those things are scrappier than they look."

Ravaka looked further into the restaurant. "Let's, uh, let's sit somewhere near the back."

Nyx followed her to a dark, quiet corner booth with his mandibles quirked in a silent question. They slid into the padded seats and a waiter dropped off two menus, which Ravaka found convenient for avoiding eye contact with Nyx.

"So, how's, um . . ."

"Vria's good," Nyx supplied. He brought up his 'tool and a moment later, Ravaka's own 'tool vibrated on her wrist.

Nyx's bondmate and daughter smiled brightly at her, and she couldn't help smiling back at the holo. "She's getting so big! She's, what, eight now?"

"Ten actually," he said, the note of pride ringing clearly in his voice. "Vetra is going to run circles around her cohort when she starts her service. She's already a handful." He grew serious again and leaned forward. "So, what do you need? Are you in trouble?"

Ravaka felt her neck warm. "Who says I need anything? Can't I just meet an old friend for drinks? Catch up and find out what he's been doing with himself."

Nyx shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe if it were a different old friend. One you haven't been avoiding since you needed space."

Ravaka crossed her arms and leaned back. "I haven't been avoiding you. Spirits, I even went to your bonding ceremony. You seem to be doing just fine."

He offered a placating smile— _no hard feelings_. "Yeah, sorry again about Vria being a little . . . cold toward you. She has a jealous streak."

Ravaka waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine. I get it."

"So back to this favor you want from me?" he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "It must be a pretty big one if you're breaking radio silence after all this time."

Ravaka took a steadying breath. "Okay fine, I need a favor. I hate that you knew that already, by the way." He chuckled and she leaned forward again. "I have this friend," she started.

"Wait," he stopped her, holding up a hand. "Is this friend actually you, a real friend, or a _friend_ friend?"

She rolled her eyes. "A real friend, now shut up and let me tell you. Her husband was recently killed."

"I'm sorry for her loss," he offered, a note of real regret in his voice. How was he always so sincere?

She shrugged one shoulder. "I'm not. I mean, I'm sorry for my friend because she's taking it hard." The thought of Han having grown so thin made Ravaka shudder, but she continued. "Personally, I thought he was a prolapsed cloaca, but that's me."

"Sounds to me you'd like this real friend to be a _friend_ friend," Nyx said and winked at her.

Ravaka rolled her eyes. "Anyway, my real friend has recently learned that her husband had gotten himself involved with some pretty unsavory people before he died. Dealing arms. Copying classified weapons R&D. Stealing antimatter from Alliance vessels. The list goes on."

Nyx nodded thoughtfully as Ravaka spoke. "Sounds like these unsavory people were stockpiling. They got a name?"

"A perp in Alliance custody calls them Cerberus," Ravaka said. "Heard the name before?"

He leaned back and tilted his head, studying her. "I have. Human supremacists. They're small time. Mostly just a bunch of yahoos who think the galaxy is out to get them or ruining their lives or something. Conspiracy theorists, mostly."

Ravaka nodded, not sure if she was more worried or relieved to have Nyx confirm Han's evidence. "From what my friend says about them, it sounds like they don't plan on staying small time for long."

Nyx hummed and nodded, his focus turning inward. Ravaka tilted her head at him. "You know something?"

He rubbed the top of his fringe and looked away from her. "I'll tell you but you're not gonna like it."

Ravaka huffed. "I don't like this whole thing. Just tell me."

"There's been a lot of activity in the Attican Traverse," he said, leaning forward. "The Alliance is planting flags all over the place, and the Batarian Hegemony doesn't like it one bit. For a while, it looked like they were preparing to escalate matters with the human colonies." He paused and hummed, clearly still working through the details in his mind. "But then a few key batarian leaders turned up dead. Stalled the fight before it even started."

Ravaka shrugged. "Sounds like the humans got a lucky break. How do you think Cerberus is involved?"

"Nobody's taking credit for the assassinations, which yeah, okay, who would, right?" He shook his head. "But even the salarians flat-out denying involvement, even though all the assassination targets were killed with a poison STG favors. And when STG agents leave their fingerprints like that, it's on purpose. Why would they walk back their involvement like that? And why would STG agents even bother with a conflict that has nothing to do with them?"

Ravaka nodded. "You think maybe Cerberus took care of it."

Nyx shrugged. "Just a hunch. If your friend is right, that this Cerberus doesn't intend to stay small time, seems like getting into the assassination market might be how they'd like to grow."

Ravaka took a deep breath. "I don't want you to put yourself in harm's way, but if you happen to hear anything while you're out there . . ."

Nyx nodded. "I can do that. I'll put some feelers out, see if anyone knows anything more than just hunches."

Ravaka felt a knot in her chest loosen. "I appreciate it, Nyx." Her mandibles fluttered uneasily. "I mean it, though. If things get hot, get out. That prolapsed cloaca was taken out by his own people. They won't think twice about killing you if you make too much noise. Go home to Vria and Vetra at the end of the day. Promise me."

Nyx flared his mandibles in a teasing grin and patted Ravaka's hand. "Ah, you do care."

Ravaka huffed and went back to reading the menu. "So tell me about this neck-gouging pyjack you lost a fight to."


	16. Try harder, next time

_It's combat night at Armax Arsenal Arena!_

Few words sent frissons of excitement coursing through Dess quite like those ones.

"You might want to call your buddies at C-Sec because you're about to get murdered," Han said, stepping into her flight suit and pulling it up to her waist. "Last time was a fluke."

Dess flared her mandibles in a cocky grin and secured her own flight suit around her spurs. "And I suppose the time before that was a fluke, too? Face it, Shepard, you're getting rusty."

For the past six months, they'd been holding semiregular bouts at the Arena. Initially, it was a way for Dess to get Han out of the house and out of her head. Her obsession with finding Cerberus and Michael's connection to them had reduced her to a state that made Dess shudder to remember. Dess figured jumping in the Arena's combat flight sim would jump-start Han's competitive edge and give her something else to think about and look forward to.

Also, she knew she could kick Han's ass, so it was a good way to pad her points on the leaderboard.

Dess's 'tool pinged. Another bet in her favor. She shook her head. It was too bad she didn't get a cut of these bets. Even at just ten percent, she'd have earned a year's salary by now.

Han looked at her own 'tool. "The regulars are out in force tonight," she said, grinning. "If only I had a nickel for every time I made someone's night."

Since they'd started their bouts, their audience had grown steadily. And it wasn't just the Silversun Strip betters. Dess had actually gotten a handful of fan letters extolling her performance in the sim—one even asked for her to be their bondmate, which was . . . rather creepy, but that was turian fans for you.

Han finished zipping up her suit and adjusted it until it was comfortable. "Prepare to flame out, Ravaka," she said and winked.

Dess laughed and shook her head. "Wishful thinking, I should've known. Tell me again. That's an Alliance-patented strategy, isn't it?"

Seeing Han smile again—genuinely, brightly, even mischievously—always made Dess's heart pound. They were evenly matched on the leaderboard, usually trading first and second place back and forth. But really, Dess was working with a handicap, and it was a testament to her competitive spirit that she didn't just lose concentration and let Han win every time she smiled at Dess.

They stepped into the combat flight simulator and took their seats, a wall separating them. The small room shimmered and suddenly wasn't so small. All around Dess was a vast expanse of water, a distant shore visible on the horizon.

The VI's tinny voice rang in her ear. "The enemy is escorting platoons of ground troops to the beach. Stop as many as you can while they run defense."

"Easy peasy." Han's voice sounded far away, despite only being a meter or two away. "Hey, Ravaka. When you meet Davey Jones, tell him all my guys are safe on the shore because I'm better than you."

Dess chuckled. "If you're trying to throw me off with a human reference I don't understand, I won't hear it and I won't respond to it."

The match began and Dess slipped easily into the role. It might have been nearly a decade since her days as a Hierarchy combat pilot, but you just didn't forget some things.

The sim was smart enough to separate them so that they didn't spawn on each other and immediately try to shoot each other down. The bout would've ended too quickly, and that wouldn't have been any fun at all. It was much more exciting to try to find each other in wide open sky and meet each other on equal footing.

Dess brought up her HUD immediately, scanning the horizon for anything—a speck, a shimmer, any disturbance at all—and finding nothing, she brought up her radar. Still nothing. Okay fine. She abandoned looking for Han's fighter and turned toward the shore itself. Her task was to take out as many enemy invaders as possible, not Han herself. Your basic tower defense.

At least, that was the plan. She heard the sound of Han's engines a fraction of a second before she started firing. From there, it was a proper dogfight.

Every time Dess thought she'd shaken Han long enough to put a personnel landing boat in her crosshairs, Han showed up in her periphery and forced her into new evasive maneuvers. Of the dozens of landing boats, she was only able to take out a handful before they started making landfall.

Finally, Dess decided to end the cat-and-mouse game and turned her sights on Han.

Every boat that landed was a negative point for Dess, but disabling Han was the only way to ensure she could take care of the rest. There was no other option. She turned her full attention on Han. Turning around, evading, chasing one another—it was more like a dance than a fight.

It was a stroke of luck, really. A boat was about to make landfall, and Dess turned her fighter like she was about to take it down. As expected, Han moved to protect the target, and Dess continued her turn to focus on Han's fighter. It was perfect. Han went down in a blaze of self-sacrifice, and Dess was free to take out the rest of the landing party.

The shore, the ocean, the boats all shimmered out of existence, and Dess sprang from her chair triumphantly.

Han met her on the other side of the wall with her arms crossed, a faux pout on her lips.

"That's three in a row," Dess said, spreading her mandibles in a wide grin. "You're falling behind, Shepard. I'll be interested to see how you plan to catch up."

Han huffed. "You're on a lucky streak that's all."

"Call it luck all you want," Dess said. "I just know you."

They reached the locker room and started to peel out of their flight suits. Dess's 'tool kept buzzing her wrist, but she didn't bother to check the notifications. She was already elated.

Han looked at her own 'tool as she pushed her flight suit to her ankles. "I gotta say my fans are not happy at all with me losing three times in a row."

"Try harder, next time," Dess said playfully. "Though I can't guarantee trying harder will do much good. I'm just, you know, better than you. No shame in losing to me."

Han huffed and rolled her eyes but continued to undress and return to her civvies.

Finally, Han was dressed and she approached Dess. "Next time," she said, smiling. "You got lucky this time."

Dess looked down at Han, so close she could feel the heat of her body. "Yeah, sure."

For just a moment, Dess let herself look at Han's lips and wonder . . . what did they feel like? Dess wasn't a particular fan of kissing, but still. She just . . . wanted to know what Han's lips felt like against her mouth plates.

She didn't mean to, but she felt herself lean forward, and for just a moment, she thought Han leaned forward too.

Someone slammed their locker shut, bringing Dess to her senses.

"Next week?" Han said, taking a step back.

"Yeah," Dess said, returning to her locker. "Next week."


	17. Who could do this?

Ravaka checked the clock for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past ten minutes and huffed in frustration. She'd had enough and stood, leaving the conference room with a stride she hoped communicated her irritation. It was no secret that officers disliked Internal Affairs on principle, but the human officers seemed to be especially intractable.

Reaching the errant officer's office, Ravaka moved to knock on the door post but stopped. She didn't know whether to laugh or groan.

Moving closer to the officer sleeping on his desk, she shook her head. _Who could do this?_ _At work, no less._ When the smell of alcohol hit her like a wave, she stepped back. _Oh, that's how_.

She put her hand on the sleeping figure's shoulder and shook him. "Harkin. Harkin! Wake up."

Harkin snored loudly once and turned his head to sleep on the other side of his face, but that was it. Ravaka sighed and brought up her 'tool to take a picture, then headed straight for her captain's office.

She closed the door behind her and brought up her 'tool to show him what she'd seen. "Seems pretty open and shut, captain. Drinking on the job is a fireable offense."

Pallin barely spared a glance at her picture. "Inadmissable."

Ravaka's mandibles flared in surprise. "What do you mean inadmissible? He's passed out at his desk. I could smell the alcohol two meters away from him."

"All I see is an exhausted officer catching a moment of rest. Unless you can enter a scent into evidence?" Pallin said, sarcasm lacing his subvocals. "If you can, please see a doctor. You might be experiencing synesthesia."

"Captain, I'm a sworn officer. My testimony—"

"Would be up against another sworn officer's testimony," he interrupted and then sighed in frustration. "I need more, Ravaka. The Alliance is starting to funnel discharging officers into C-Sec, with a nice excess munitions exchange to sweeten the deal."

Ravaka knew exactly where Pallin was going with this, but she was feeling petulant. "So? Even if Harkin didn't have a slew of impropriety and abuse-of-power complaints against him, from both the public and his fellow officers, that alone is enough to get rid of him. He's defiling the uniform, sir."

"So," Pallin said, mocking her tone, "the executor isn't even going to blink at a human drinking on the job because he wants to keep the influx of budget-defying weapons going as long as he can. If you want him off the force, you need to get something substantial and your evidence needs to be airtight."

Ravaka growled her frustration, but she went back to her office without any further protest. One way or another, she was going to nail this bastard to the wall.


	18. I know how you love to play games

Humans had been trickling onto the Citadel since the resolution of the Shanxi conflict, but once the human embassy opened, that trickle had turned into a steady flow. Like every other race before them, they congregated in the same neighborhoods, quickly forming enclaves where they could share familiar food, culture, and values.

Dess could understand the compulsion to look for likeness in an unfamiliar world—it was intimidating to look around and see no one, seemingly, like you.

Most of the Citadel's residents were indifferent to the way humans carried on their own business and the things they introduced—cuisine, fashion, literature, traditions. Even different religious practices went unremarked upon by most of the Citadel's population. (One incident, in which a group of humans dropped stones into the Citadel reservoirs, caused a small ripple of concern for the station's water source, but once it was ascertained the humans had deliberately chosen porous rocks to act as natural filters, everyone wished them a blessed new year and didn't think about it again.)

But this . . . this was different.

Over the course of a week, Han and Alli's home acquired progressively stranger decor. From small orange lights lining the walls and shelves to paper cutouts of small black animals Dess didn't recognize pinned to the walls to lumpy, orange orbs with grotesque, geometric faces cut into them sitting outside the front door, Dess was sure to find something new that didn't make sense to her nearly every day. Dess thought it might be rude to ask about the sudden change of interior design, so she kept her confusion to herself . . . until Alli's long red hair turned black and curly.

Alli rushed to the door in an odd outfit—a short, sleeveless dress that was dark red in the bodice and dark blue in the skirt, complete with greaves for her legs, shiny wrist guards for her arms, and a small crown across her forehead with zigzags in the middle. She crossed her arms in front of her in what Dess assumed (or rather, hoped) was a greeting.

"Hey, Ms. Dess, look what I can do today!" Alli said and turned, her corona shimmering as she jumped higher and landed slower than most other children her age could possibly do.

Han peeked from around the corner in the kitchen. "Okay, Diana," she said, obviously exasperated, but still indulgent. "See if you can't lasso up some place settings for dinner."

Alli hurried into the kitchen and Dess followed her, stopping at the sight of Han. It might've been jarring to see Alli so oddly dressed but Han was . . . arresting. She wore a blue body suit with bright red gloves and boots. A gold band ran across her shoulders, meeting in a starburst in the middle of her chest. The suit was bright red from her shoulders all the way up her long neck, and her hair was pulled and twisted and pinned so tightly behind her, save for a few short locks falling just below her ear on one side, that for a moment Dess thought she must've cut it that short.

There was one other article of clothing she wore—a red sash draped loosely across her hips and held together by a gold medallion on one side—that Dess was careful to avoid looking at directly to keep from gawking.

"Have I . . . entered an alternate universe?" she said, careful to keep her voice even.

Han glanced over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove, pressing sandwiches into a pan. She laughed. "I guess in a sense you have. It's Halloween!"

Dess nodded, still not comprehending. "And that's . . ."

"The best holiday of the year," Han said, grinning brightly. "My ancestors celebrated it as Samhain and All Hallow's Eve, followed by All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day when they were coopted by another religion. But these days it's more of an amalgamation of traditions. Mostly, it's for kids to dress up in costumes and go around trick-or-treating. Getting the neighbors to give them candy or other treats."

"Well that explains how the two of you are dressed," Dess said. "Is this . . . your own creation, or . . ."

Han giggled as she flipped the sandwiches. Orange goo oozed out of the bread that, by the smell, was blacker than it was supposed to be, Dess was certain.

Alli came bursting back into the kitchen to grab more dishes for the table. "I'm Wonder Woman!" Then she was gone just as quickly, the dull thud of cups hitting the table soon following behind her.

Han shrugged. "It's a little esoteric, but she found an article about her in her literature class. She's a superhero who has super strength, but she usually defeats villains ultimately through the power of love and friendship."

"And she can fly!" Alli added as she came back for utensils.

"Uh huh," Dess said. "And who are you supposed to be?"

"Captain Marvel," Han answered. Then she shrugged and tilted her head. "Well, Carol Danvers, anyway. There were a few Captains Marvel over the years. She's also a superhero who can fly and has super strength. She was even a combat pilot." She paused and smiled fondly. "I loved reading about her as a kid. She's probably the reason I was attracted to the pilot program when I enlisted with the Alliance."

"She can punch a hole in a planet!" Alli offered, this time grabbing a pitcher of water from the fridge to take with her.

Han rolled her eyes. "I think someone might've sampled the candy already." She swiped a hand at her hair. "Carol is supposed to be blonde, not red-head, but I thought bleaching my hair would be going just a little overboard for one night."

Dess was glad Han had decided to keep her hair the way it was. She looked down at her plain civvies and flicked her mandibles uncertainly. "Should I be dressed up too?"

Han chuckled. "Nah. You're fine like you are. You can just tell people you're an undercover cop." Her voice got a little softer and she leaned in closer to Dess. "After dinner, we're going to the human embassy for the Halloween festival if you'd like to come with us? There'll be games, treats, haunted houses, you name it."

"Yeah, okay," Dess said, nodding in agreement before Han was hardly finished with the invitation.

Han smiled and turned back to the sandwiches she was currently ruining. "Good," she said. "I won't have to be the only adult genuinely afraid of the haunted house."

#

Dess should've expected it, but there were far more humans in the embassy than she'd ever seen together before.

Obviously, there were places average citizens and nonemployees couldn't go, but those areas were clearly cordoned off, and no one seemed interested in pushing those boundaries. Instead, the adults looked harried and mildly wary as they looked after their overexcited and rambunctious children.

Dess had seen plenty of children play make-believe before—it was a natural part of childhood, after all. But the sheer scope of shapes and characters the small humans took on was almost astounding. Some had faces that appeared to be scarred by fire and others looked like they'd been haphazardly stitched together. Still others looked almost normal or close enough to normal that it was uncomfortably uncanny. Some wore masks and some wore prosthetic noses with warts on them and some wore cloaks and hoods that hid their entire face and shape.

It was a humbling reminder that turians weren't the only ones with a rich history and diverse myths and stories.

Alli, now equipped with a round shield and foam sword, scanned the crowd, anxiously twisting her hands together until she caught sight of what she was looking for. Without a word, she rushed forward to meet a young asari and a young turian. The turian, by the banner he carried, was clearly the legendary general of the First Regiment. The asari, despite her clearly intricate gown, was harder to place.

Han leaned over and said in a voice low enough for only the two of them to hear, "That's Kardith and Segundus, two of Alli's friends." The suppressed laughter in Han's voice was unmistakable. "I have absolutely no idea what they're supposed to be, but they look adorable."

Alli came running back after a moment, excitement lighting up her eyes. "Mom, can we go off on our own? I promise we'll be careful."

Han brought up her 'tool and in a few swipes Alli's wrist buzzed. "There's enough for some snacks and tickets if you need them. Don't talk to any adults who make you feel weird, and be safe."

As the trio hurried away, Dess's mandibles twitched. "You're not worried about not being able to see them?"

Han shrugged. "We're in an embassy. They're safer here than they are in our homes."

Without Alli and her friends to direct their movements, Dess suddenly felt at a loss. Hadn't Han said this was a holiday for kids? Then Han grabbed her hand, grinned mischievously, and started pulling them in a new direction.

"Come on," she said. "I've heard the haunted house is better than anything they had on Arcturus."

Dess flared her mandibles but didn't let go of Han's hand. "I thought you said you were 'genuinely afraid' of the haunted house."

Han looked back and rolled her eyes. "Sure, but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna check it out. I'd rather spend a few nights irrationally afraid of the dark than miss out on a proper Halloween fright."

Dess shook her head but followed Han regardless. They ended up at the tail end of curling line moving at a glacial pace.

"So what's a haunted house, anyway?"

Han looked at Dess with what looked like a baffled expression. "You say 'spirits' all the time. How do you not know what a haunted house is?"

Dess suppressed a smirk and shrugged. "Let's pretend like you're a human and I'm a turian and I don't know what a haunted house is."

Han rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you have something equivalent but okay. Basically, someone dies tragically or spends a miserable life in a house. After they die, their spirit is caught there, either reliving their worst moments or actively antagonizing living people who dare enter their space even decades later. They're not real, of course. Usually there's a gas leak or something. Even in fiction they're a common allegory for . . . well." Han swallowed and started rubbing the fingers of her left hand. "All monsters are an allegory for something real, aren't they?"

Dess felt as though she was trespassing on territory she didn't fully understand and refrained from asking for anymore explanation about folklore.

Han turned toward Dess and smiled weakly. "In my experience, it's the people who are haunted, not the places."

Dess looked quickly around them for a shorter line and took Han's hand, pulling her away from the haunted house. "Let's do something else. We'll come back when the line is shorter."

Han squeezed Dess's hand and followed her to a booth with a row of three boxes, each with a holo in front of them.

The far left box had a holo of a pile of pink and red mush making a squish noise on repeat—probably a human brain. The middle had a holo of very fuzzy worms moving slowly over each other in a bowl. And on the far right, there was a holo of bloody eyes blinking steadily at nothing.

Hannah's smile grew. "They're fear boxes," she said. "We reach in through different ends and see who freaks out first." She crossed her arms. "I know how you like to play games. Care to wager?"

Dess rolled her eyes. "Please. I don't have the same human baggage you do. I'll reach in there any day."

Han gave an incredulous grin and nodded. "Oh, of course. Turians are definitely immune to feeling brains and raw eyes. You have a true advantage and I'm weak to my human baggage, as you say."

Dess flared her mandibles in a smirk. "Fine. Loser makes dinner next."

Han put out her hand. "Deal."

They approached the box on the far left on either side of it and removed their gloves.

"So what you do," Han explained, "is you put your hand through the hole here until you touch what's inside." She swallowed, growing visibly paler. "Easy."

Dess chuckled. "Fine. On the count of three."

They positioned themselves, each with a hand at a hole's entrance, Han visibly taking deep breaths.

"One," Dess said as sing-songy as she could manage.

"Two," Han said flatly.

"Three," they said together and reached inside the dark box.

It was wet and cold and slimy and Dess lasted about three seconds before she pulled back—which was about two seconds longer than Han, who almost immediately pulled back her hand and held it to her chest.

"No fair!" she cried, shaking her hand. "It's . . . wet and gross."

Dess chuckled and pulled her toward the next box. "This one looks dry. Let's see how you do."

They counted down once more, and Han closed her eyes tightly before thrusting her hand into the box.

It was Dess's turn to pull away immediately. It was just so . . . weird and tickly and _moving_.

Han laughed as she made a point to keep her hand in the box. "Who's the coward now?" she crowed.

Dess shook her hand. "There's still one box left."

They both hesitated this time, their hands hanging above their sides of the box.

"Are you scared?" Han teased, nervousness tinging the voice. "I won't blame you if you walk away now."

Dess shook her head. "In your dreams," she said. "I have a free dinner coming my way."

They counted down once more—markedly slower, Dess noticed—before they finally reached inside. Dess wasn't sure what Han's face looked like because she'd shut her eyes too tightly, preparing for the final challenge.

It was a weird squish, with a little dish of wet orbs waiting for her. Just like she hadn't recoiled in the first challenge, Dess kept her hand still despite the grossness. Still, though, she kept her eyes shut.

Then there was something warm and strong that grabbed onto her fingers.

"Oh, that's you!" Han said, making Dess finally open her eyes. She held her other hand to her mouth as the one fondling Dess's fingers retracted. "Sorry! I was . . . I wanted to win."

Dess chuckled and pulled her hand back, trying to shake away the buzzing warmth of where Han had touched her. "This was the weirdest one," she said. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you'll poison me if you make dinner next."

Han pursed her lips in amusement and pulled her hand out of the box to throw a whitish orb at Dess.

Dess caught it and held it up, trying to discern what it might be.

"It's a peeled grape," Han explained. "If I had to guess, the first box was noodles and the second box was . . . pipe cleaners?"

Dess chuckled. "Are you telling me we didn't really touch human brains and eyes or weird fuzzy worms?"

Han laughed, reaching for a box with damp white tissues. "It's all for fun," she said. "None of it's for real."

She looked up and for a moment Dess thought she saw a questioning look there. "Right," she said at last. "Obviously, none of it's for real."

Han grinned at her. "Come on," she said. "Let's go to the house of mirrors."


	19. Like this is the worst I've done

It was true.

Dess loved Han and she couldn't—and didn't want to—help it.

Not even when Han overcooked _thraka_ , the easiest thing in the galaxy to make.

"I mean, it takes thirty minutes just to cook it normally," Dess said, spearing the rubbery meat with a knife because a fork wouldn't work anymore.

Han frowned. "Oh please, like this is the worst I've done."

As much as Dess wanted to appreciate Han's efforts to cook turian dishes, she couldn't help but chuckle at how Han couldn't manage something Dess herself had mastered when she was ten. "Actually," she said, "I think it might be."

Han tossed down the dish towel and crossed her arms, stalking out of the kitchen. Dess immediately regretted her kidding. It was difficult to communicate just how much Han's unerring ability to burn any dish endeared her to Dess when Han couldn't understand her subvocals. But endearing or not, Dess didn't want Han to feel bad about being a truly and utterly terrible cook.

She followed Han out of the kitchen, her mandibles contritely close to her jaw. "I'm sorry, Han. I think it's funny, I promise. It just needs a little _raka_ sauce and everything's fine." Well, edible was probably a better word than fine, but Han didn't need to know that.

Still turned away from Dess, Han put her hand to her forehead and her shoulders began to shake.

 _No no no no no_ , this was not what Dess wanted.

She quickly walked up to Han and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, I'm so sorry. I really appreciate you trying to make food for me. I'm sure it's wonderful."

Han turned around with her hand on her mouth, clearly trying and failing to suppress a laugh. "No, please don't eat that. I'm pretty sure it'll poison you. Then where would I be?"

Dess couldn't help but laugh—partly because she was relieved Han wasn't genuinely offended by her teasing, but mostly because just seeing Han laugh was usually enough to get Dess to join her.

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Dess excused herself to answer it. Han had dropped Alli off at Kardith's place on her way over, and with Sana called out to a delivery, Dess hadn't been expecting anyone. With a quiet laugh still in her throat, Dess opened the door and . . . she could almost feel her brain stall out.

"Nyx!" Her mandibles fluttered in what she hoped looked more like surprise than anxiety. "I . . . didn't know you'd be coming by."

He nodded and smirked at her, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You know, considering I have off-the-books, super-duper-extra-classified intel to give you, I thought it would be best to do it in person and skip the comm chatter." He crossed his arms and smirked at her, a knowing glint in his eyes. "But now I'm getting the feeling that showing up unannounced has the added bonus of catching you completely unprepared to tell me what—or who—you're doing."

Dess rolled her eyes and turned to let him inside. "Ass. You're not 'catching' me doing anything. Or anyone."

"Excellent," he said and nodded toward Han at the end of the hall. "So you won't mind introducing me."

Despite her heart pounding hard against her chest, Dess was proud that she kept her cool. "Han, Nyx. Nyx, Han."

Hannah smiled and put out her hand to Nyx. "Hannah Shepard. Nice to meet you."

Nyx took her hand and looked at Dess, his brow plates raising in surprise. "Han? It's nice to meet you. I think you're the one I've been running recon for."

Nyx flicked a teasing look at Dess, and she responded with a warning intonation— _Shut up._

Han's eyes brightened. "Dess mentioned she had a friend in the field." She shook his hand more vigorously. "I can't tell you how much your intel means to us."

Nyx turned his gaze on Dess again—significantly. "It's my pleasure," he said. " _Dess_ is an old friend and I know she'd do the same for me."

Dess gave another, firmer intonation. _Shut. Up._

Han looked between them uncomfortably. "I . . . I'm not a great cook when it comes to . . . food," Han said. "But you're welcome to stay to join us while—"

Nyx chuckled as he brought up his 'tool. "Why don't I get us some delivery?" he said. "That'll free up some of our time to talk about you terrorist friends."

Dess wanted to object, but the look of relief on Han's face stopped her.

"Honestly," Han said, "that's probably for the best. I can't really cook turian dishes yet, but Dess has some dextro beer? Do you have a preference?"

Nyx followed Han into the kitchen but kept his eyes on Dess. "Not really," he said. "I'm sure I'll like whatever _Dess_ likes."

Dess had hoped this moment would never come, but now that it was here, she took a deep breath and went into the kitchen.

Her ex and her . . . _interest_. Meeting. Getting along. Perfect. Nyx was never going to let her hear the end of this.


	20. This is not new, it only feels like it

"Okay, Casanova, prove it," Hannah said.

Dess didn't know what _Casanova_ meant, but the challenge stopped her cold in her tracks.

Did . . . did Han just . . . ask Dess to prove she was a good kisser? Did she really want Dess to kiss her?

Han's rapidly coloring cheeks and neck told Dess she'd suddenly realized what she'd said. But she kept her eyes set on the dishes she was cleaning in front of her, and Dess couldn't get a better look at her face. Was it a joke? Did she mean it? Should Dess play it off as not serious? Should she take the challenge and pretend like it was nothing? It was probably nothing.

"I . . . I can. If . . . that'll convince you?" _Fuck_. Dess knew she had never sounded less convincing in her life. _Great, Dess. Good job. Now she probably feels weird_. _You made it weird._

Dess had never seen Han's face as red as it was now. Yeah, Dess had definitely made it weird. _Double fuck_. How did she walk this back? How did she let Han know everything was fine, that Dess didn't actually think she was being serious? That she didn't want to kiss Han, not really, and that she hadn't imagined it more times than she cared to count?

Dess opened her mouth to say . . . something, _anything_ to make things less weird, when Han finally looked up and gave a breathy, nervous laugh.

"Yeah, why not?" she said, grabbing a dishtowel as she turned toward Dess to dry them. "Lay one on me. Show me what you got. It's just a kiss."

 _Just a kiss_. Of course it was just a kiss. It wasn't like Dess hadn't kissed others before. Kissing didn't do anything for her then, so why would it do anything for her now, with Han? She just had to play it cool. Once their mutual curiosity was satisfied, that would be it. Easy. No weirdness.

Dess nodded and stood, turning to face Han. "Just don't blame me if you fall for me." _What the fuck was that? It definitely wasn't playing it cool_.

Han's expression softened from terrified to something that looked close to disappointed. "You don't have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable," she said, her voice serious but reassuring. "I know I'm a squishy alien and—"

 _Fuck it_. Dess pressed her mouth against Han's before she could finish offering Dess a way out—she didn't want a way out, and she didn't want Han thinking she did.

It wasn't like any other kiss Dess had ever experienced before. Hannah's lips were soft and pliant, smooth and sweet from the balm she absentmindedly applied to them every day. She tasted like . . . like a glass of cold water on a hot day, like the first breath of air when you've been under water too long, like lying on your back among the cool grass under a sky full of stars, the whole world silent save for the wind moving through the trees. Dess's hands moved of their own accord, brushing her fingers up Han's neck tangling in the silken strands of her hair. How was it possible for Han to be this soft?

Dess felt Han part her lips enough for the tip of her tongue to touch Dess's mouth plates. She gasped against Han's lips as she pulled back the impulse to lift Han by the waist and accept her invitation for more. It was too much, and Dess pulled away, nearly breathless.

She felt Han lose her balance briefly and offered a steadying hand on her shoulder to help her. "I'm sorry," she said, thanking whatever spirit had enough mercy on her to not let Han understand the want, _the need_ in Dess's subvocals. "I think . . . I got carried away." _Wait, no, not that_. "Trying to prove my point, I mean. Sorry."

Han's chest rose and fell like she was out of breath, and her eyes seemed darker than they had been before. "No, no," she said and cleared her throat. "You did tell me you were a good kisser. That was . . . yeah. Definitely good. You convinced me. The next asari you fall in love with for a night is a lucky one."

Dess laughed weakly. So she hadn't totally botched it. "Glad to set the record straight." She couldn't stay there, she knew that, not like this, not with her plates already shifted and wanting more. She needed to compose herself, and she wouldn't be able to do that standing next to Han, not right now. "I should—I guess I should get going. I have . . . paperwork I need to do tonight. I'll probably see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, of course," Hannah said, nodding quickly. "I'll, uh, yeah. See you tomorrow."

Dess turned to leave but stopped. She needed to say something. Something to cut the tension and let Han know nothing was different or weird. She half turned back toward Hannah and winked, trying her hardest and probably failing to act like her normal self, and said, "Try not to dream about me tonight."

Han's eyes brightened as she gave a breathy laugh and tossed a dishtowel at Dess.

 _Okay, good. Nothing weird about that at all. Just keep walking like you don't want to turn around and press her up against a wall, lift her by her thighs, and wrap her legs around your waist. You're doing great. Just keep walking._

When the door to the apartment finally closed behind Dess, she let out a long breath and put a hand on the wall for support.

It's not like this was the first time she'd felt like this. She'd entertained idle daydreams plenty of times, and not just about kissing or more than kissing. She'd wondered what it would be like to wake up next to her every day, to have her smile at Dess like they were the only two people in the galaxy, to hear her say she cared for Dess as much as Dess . . . well.

But those little fantasies had become background noise in a friendship she'd thought, until only moments ago, had found its footing and showed no signs of evolving into anything else. Her heart pounded with an emotion she'd so carefully avoided since she'd realized her own feelings.

 _Hope_.

#

Cassia opened her door to Odessus's frantic knocking with a look of bewilderment. "Ravaka? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

Based on Cassia's faded and well-worn sleeping clothes, Odessus could surmise she was alone and let herself in. "I'm . . . I don't know. She kissed me."

Cassia closed the door and turned toward Odessus with her arms crossed. "Who kissed you? Am I happy for you or angry on your behalf?"

Odessus shook her head. "I don't know. Not angry. Just . . . I don't know how I'm feeling about this right now."

A look of realization crossed Cassia's face. "Oh this is about Hannah isn't it?"

"Or I kissed her. It all happened so fast. We kissed." Odessus's head was spinning too much to acknowledge Cassia properly.

Cassia twitched her mandibles in a smirk. "Thank the fucking spirits." She walked over to the dry bar and picked up two tumblers. "I had a feeling our little arrangement wasn't really doing what you wanted it to do," she said as she filled the glasses with cubes of ice and poured a liberal amount of brandy into each. "You should see your face every time you get a message from her. Between that, your weekly date nights to the Armax Arena—"

"They're not dates," Odessus insisted.

Cassia chuckled as she walked the drinks over to the couch and indicated for Odessus to sit down. "Keep telling yourself that." Odessus took the glass but didn't drink its contents and didn't sit. "Between those things and the way your eyes light up when you talk about her, it's obvious to pretty much everyone but the two of you how smitten you are."

Odessus shook her head. "You know I am. You don't know Han that well, though. There's no way you could know how she feels about me. What if it was just a kiss? She said it was just a kiss."

Cassia rolled her eyes and put an arm over the top of the sofa. "Have you tried asking her if it was _really_ 'just a kiss' or do you need me to pass her a note in gym class before lunch?"

Odessus frowned. "I can't ask her that."

"Why not?" There was a clear note of frustration in Cassia's subvocals.

"Because that would be weird!" Odessus said. "Because if it was just a kiss, me asking would make it look like I wanted it to be more than just a kiss."

"You do!" Cassia flared her mandibles, perplexed.

"I know that!" Odessus said. "But I don't want _her_ to know that if it _was_ just a kiss."

Cassia sighed deeply and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "So you'd rather just . . . _exist_ in this eternal middle space where neither of you has any idea how the other one feels?"

Odessus sat heavily next to Cassia. "I guess not."

"Listen," Cassia said, turning her body more toward Odessus. "Ask her if it was just a kiss. Spirits, don't even ask her that. Ask her if she wants to fuck. It worked on you."

Odessus shook her head and set down her untouched drink. "Spirits, that's not what this is about." _Well, not entirely. Not even mostly, but still_.

Cassia nudged Odessus in the shoulder. "Then just tell her you have feelings for her. For the life of me I have no idea why you haven't yet."

Odessus gave a half-hearted shrug. "We've been friends for so long. She's important to me _as_ a friend, and I don't want to lose that." She shook her head. "This is all new territory for me."

Cassia nodded. "This is not new, it only feels like it. And I know putting yourself out there will be uncomfortable, and there's a lot on the other side of that conversation that you can't control or predict. But it'll be better for both of you to know how the other one feels. For better or worse." She held up her glass and tilted it toward Odessus. "I'm rooting for better, obviously, and I don't think I'm wrong to."

Odessus knew Cassia was right. Kissing Han had set something in motion, something that couldn't be stopped until it reached its own conclusion.

"Oh, and we can't fuck anymore." Cassia said and took a sip of her drink. "You no longer meet my criterion for being unattached. You're about as attached as they come, sweet hips. Have been this whole time, really." She shook her head. "I'll never understand all this love nonsense, but I hope it works out for you."

Odessus hadn't thought about that, but she agreed. It had been a dubious arrangement at best, anyway. "Thank you, Cassia."

"Oh no, thank _you_ ," Cassia said and winked. "It was fun while it lasted. Hannah is either a very lucky human or she has no idea what she's missing out on. I'm betting on the former."

Spirits, Odessus hoped so.


End file.
